


Spliced

by avengersasssemble



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Domestic Avengers, Domestic Fluff, F/M, First Kiss, Genetic Engineering, Getting Together, Grief/Mourning, Hydra (Marvel), If AOU had been a good movie, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kidnapping, M/M, Miscommunication, Multi, Mutual Pining, Nightmares, Self-Esteem Issues, Superfamily, Team Dynamics, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-01-17 13:42:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 69,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12366969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avengersasssemble/pseuds/avengersasssemble
Summary: Apparently, obtaining Avenger DNA is easy. HYDRA has been conducting secret genetic experiments in an attempt to create the Ultimate Avenger and build a mass army to destroy Earth's mightiest heroes. When the main team finds the laboratory where the experiments were being held, not even Natasha has an answer on how to handle the one live subject remaining. What will the team do when they find out their leaders' genetic code has been spliced together?





	1. Preface

**Author's Note:**

> It's been awhile since I've written. More comments = faster upload. I appreciate any and all types of feedback!

Darkness.

Distant rumbling, deep and prolonged like a growl of hunger.

For a moment, a bright light flickered down the hall, then darkness again.

The once blinding fluorescence of the overhead lights seemed like a distant comfort now that the inky blackness of the room began to seep into his bones. He tried to cry out for help, but the mask over his face and liquid in his lungs kept the noise firm in his throat. Frightened, he tried to move, but quickly realized he could not feel his body, save for flicking his eyes back and forth in terror; he struggled until exhaustion crept through the few muscles he could move, causing him to sink into the complete darkness.

_“We should have gotten rid of it when we had the chance.”_

_“You want to personally be responsible for killing the only surviving test subject?”_

_“If it gets into their hands, the entire plan is ruined.”_

_“I’m not going to let you kill it. HYDRA has done some dastardly stuff, but I’m not letting its next low point be killing children.”_

_“I understand, but the boss—”_

_“Screw that. We have a chance to do something good for once. Otherwise, who knows what they’ll do to it if it matures.”_

_“Fine. It will live. But if this comes back to haunt us, it’s on your head.”_

He thought he was dreaming, but when he cracked open his eyes again, he watched two heels disappear outside the door, leaving him trapped in his liquid confines. As realization set in, he screamed soundlessly, hanging in suspended animation to wait for someone, _anyone_ to save him.


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Go Team Asgard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd. Comments & Kudos appreciated.

“Are we sure we got this right?”

Rolling his eyes behind the faceplate, Tony Stark barely hesitated as he leveled his arm with his shoulder backward and shot off two blasts at escaping HYDRA soldiers.

“I don’t know, Barton, I thought the red squid skull on their suits was a dead giveaway,” he drawled sarcastically, blasting off to head forward into the midst of the fight.

“No, they’re definitely HYDRA,” the archer replied, barely looking as he used his arrows as melee weapons, “I meant, are we sure this is just an outpost? Most outposts only have twenty-some foot soldiers. Never this much artillery—”

As if to punctuate his statement, the Hulk roared somewhere in the distance and an armored truck flew overhead the main battle, crashing off into the deep forest.

“He has a point,” Natasha commented, reloading her bites as she looked at the carnage around them, “The level of security is too high to be just an outpost. There has to be something else here.”

“JARVIS, run a heat signature scan,” Tony called, lessening his repulsors as he dropped to the ground, “Alright team, into the complex.”

“Aren’t I supposed to say that?” Steve Rogers called, trudging over from the edge of the woods with the Hulk in tow.

“If you were on time, you would be,” Tony answered back, rolling his eyes again, “After you, Capsicle. You can set off any booby traps for us.”

“HYDRA doesn’t set booby traps. They set death traps,” Steve replied seriously, lifting his shield a little higher, “Alright, team, into the complex.”

“I _said_ that already.”

“You didn’t say it right.”

“Bite me, Rogers.”

With the Hulk standing guard, the other Avengers made their way into the small building, with Thor bringing up the rear. Tony cast his repulsors brighter, illuminating the wreckage that lay before them.

“Alright. Widow, Hawkeye, take lead. Iron Man and I will do side rooms. Thor, you watch our backs,” Steve called out.

The team moved forward in practiced sync, weapons raised in case of an ambush. The first few rooms they investigated were either decorated with basic furniture or completely empty. It was not until they hit the second-to-last room that Tony put up his hand, stopping the party.

“There’s a temperature flux in the far wall,” he noted, going over to feel on the concrete, “And since they’re really cliché villains—”

He pushed hard on the wall, grinning behind the mask as a false door sunk into the wall and moved to the side, revealing a staircase lit with emergency lights. As he stepped back, Natasha and Clint quickly took up their positions in the front, silently descending the staircase. At the bottom, they regrouped, watching Natasha as she surveyed their surroundings. Once she began to move, the others followed, careful to check behind themselves often.

“It’s a morgue,” She finally announced, leading the team into what seemed to be a large operating room, outfitted with numerous gurneys, cabinets and counters, medical equipment and a small set of morgue cabinets on a back wall.

“Gross,” Clint shuddered, not venturing any deeper into the room, “Why would HYDRA need something like this?”

“For something like me,” Steve answered, pulling his cowl off to reveal his sweat-slicked hair, “Alright. Barton, you’re here with me. Tony, Natasha, keep going and see if you can find any survivors. Thor, see if you can get upstairs and get some light in this place.”

“Aw, dude,” Clint grumbled, wincing as he stepped further into the room, “Come _on_.”

Tony only laughed as he and Natasha ducked back out of the room, following the right-hand wall deeper into the maze of the HYDRA complex. Together, they crept as silently as they could with Tony leading, repulsors lighting their way.

“As much as I hate to admit it, this is a little creepy,” Natasha said, glancing at the various empty rooms that held shredded hospital beds, “I thought this only happened in movies.”

“It does,” Tony grumbled, “Our life is pretty much a movie, Natalie.”

She groaned at that, leaving Tony in a fit of laughter.

“Are you ever going to let that go—what the hell?” She grumbled, stopping just in time to not hit Tony’s stopped form, “Why did you stop?”

“I’m getting—I’m getting an odd reading,” He answered distantly, eyes glancing across the feed on the inside of his mask, “There’s a heat signature, but it’s not an agent. It’s too small. Maybe an animal.”

“Afraid of a little raccoon?” Natasha scoffed, ducking in front of Tony to trudge forward into the room, “It’s just a—oh, hell. Tony, you’re going to want to see this.”

Following Natasha in, Tony flipped his faceplate up, unable to drag his eyes away from the sight in front of him.

“Well, it’s alive,” He finally said, stepping up to the floor-to-ceiling glass tube, “Should we take it out?”

“Jesus, Stark, let me think,” Natasha muttered, looking at the scattered papers around the room, “If it survived this long without dying, it can survive a little longer while we figure out what it _is_.”

“Point taken,” Tony sighed, joining the hunt for information.

Together, they poured over the papers they could find, both silent as they absorbed the horrifying experiments that had been conducted in the room they stood in: a directive by HYDRA to create a new wave of super soldiers was being carried out, using modern genetic technology.

“Okay, I’m out,” Tony finally said, shuddering as he handed his papers over to Natasha, “I—shit, that’s messed up. Even for an evil organization. And I don’t even _want_ to know how they got my DNA, of all things.”

“Easy,” Natasha replied, concentrating on reading, “Just steal you. Or your sheets. Have you been kidnapped lately?”

“Hardee har har,” Tony grunted, moving back to stare at what he could only call an experiment floating in the glass tube, “Did you find out what this is?”

“Not this. He. It’s a boy, Tony,” Natasha answered softly, her voice much quieter than before.

“Yes, I can see it is a boy, that doesn’t mean it is a human boy,” Tony snorted, oblivious to her tone, “What is it?”

Silence ticked by. Eventually, Tony turned with a questioning look on his face to see Natasha staring at the boy in the tube.

“What?”

Tony snapped his fingers in front of Natasha’s face, yelping as she reached up and smacked his arm.

“Hey, what was that for?” He grumbled, trying to see over her shoulder at the last paper she had stopped on.

“He’s not just any boy, Tony,” Natasha continued, handing Tony the stack of papers, “He’s yours.”

“Last time I checked, I didn’t have a test tube baby, Tasha,” Tony replied hesitantly, taking the papers.

Regardless, he poured through the sheet had ended on. By the end, his face had gone pallid, mouth open slightly as he tried to accept what he had just read.

“This can’t be right. Natasha. Please tell me this isn’t right,” Tony begged hoarsely, “This isn’t possible, right?”

“It’s very possible, and despite HYDRA’s evil intentions, they do have good resources to accomplish the impossible. I’m afraid it’s accurate, Tony,” Natasha answered, looking at the young boy in the tube, “He’s a genetically modified child, built from splicing your DNA with Rogers’.”

“No. That’s not how that works! You can splice _females’_ DNA together and it will work, but not male!” Tony sputtered, waving his hand at the boy, “And look! He—”

“Looks nothing like Steve?” Natasha interrupted, raising an eyebrow, “No, but he definitely looks like you.”

Tony huffed at that, frustration evident on his face. With a sigh, he stepped out of his armor, setting it to sentry mode before circling the tube.

“Well, let’s get him out of here, then,” He groused, “He seems to be suspended in what I _assume_ is a perfluorocarbon liquid. But, he does have a mask on, so maybe that can pump the liquid from his lungs, or it’s prevented liquid from getting in there in the first place.”

“If it prevented it, the liquid wouldn’t be oxygenated,” Natasha pointed out, looking around the room for a control box.

“Yeah, yeah, smartass, just help,” Tony sighed, investigating the screws on the bottom of the tube, “Okay, so it looks like if I just get a large enough wrench, I could—”

A large siren blared, causing Tony to scream from being startled. He immediately glared at Natasha who shrugged, watching the liquid in the tube recede into the floor and the boy be lowered. As soon as the liquid disappeared completely, the top of the tube slid down, leaving the boy motionless with an oxygen mask over his small nose and mouth.

“Let me,” Natasha interrupted Tony’s thoughts, pushing him away, “Go see if one of those hospital bedrooms has a blanket or a sheet we can wrap him in.”

Glad for the distraction, Tony walked out, trying to calm the thousands of thoughts knocking in his brain.

_I have a kid. Not really. He has half my DNA. Which is a kid. That belongs to me. Not belongs. I don’t own it. Him. Not it. He is half my kid and half Rogers’ kid. Jesus, it’s like the twilight zone…Steve’s going to throw a riot once he finds out. And then he’s going to kill me._

Finding a not-so-filthy blanket, Tony swiped it up before returning to the room he dubbed the “tube room,” handing the blanket over to Natasha.

“Is it—Is he alright?” Tony asked, bending at his knees to get a good look at the pale boy.

“Unconscious, but breathing. Good pulse, too. They must not have killed him before evacuating,” Natasha replied evenly, making quick work of wrapping the boy in the blanket, “We’ll have to tell—”

“We are not telling Steve,” Tony snapped, “Not until—Not until we’re sure. Got it?”

Natasha sighed, fondly setting a hand on Tony’s knee.

“Tony, if Steve’s DNA is also in this boy, he needs to know,” She said quietly, “But if you want to wait, fine. You have my silence. But I _will_ tell him if you do not.”

“Give me a month,” Tony asked, turning to make eye contact with Natasha, “Please?”

Though she huffed, she nodded.

It was all he could ask for.

Standing, Tony re-entered his suit, flipping down the faceplate to hide his expression. Carefully, he took the boy from Natasha and cradled him in the suit’s arms, trying not to seem awkward.

“Support his head.”

Tony blinked.

“Do what?” he asked, looking over at Natasha.

“Support his head,” She repeated, maneuvering Tony’s arms to properly hold the boy, “When kids are this weak, their necks don’t really have enough strength to be held like this without support.”

Finding the positioning a bit more comfortable, Tony nodded, following Natasha out of the tube room and back to the morgue. Once the realization hit him of what the morgue had been used for, he suddenly wished he had a protocol for throwing up in the suit.

“Steve, we have a problem,” Natasha said as she entered the room, causing Steve and Clint to stop investigating their own papers.

“What is it?” Steve asked, squinting in the darkness.

At that moment, the lights flickered on, causing both Steve and Clint’s jaws to drop at the sight of Tony Stark holding a blue-ish, pale toddler wrapped in a dirty blanket.

“Well, seems that Thor got the electricity working. Go team Asgard,” Tony managed.


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh, brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd. Comments & Kudos appreciated.

He did not like the silence.

He had to have noise: sometimes it was blaring music, sometimes it was his own voice, and sometimes it was listening to the people around him.

Silence was never good.

So, when Steve and Clint did not say anything about the child-experiment he was holding, Tony nearly blew a fuse.

 _There’s no reason for them to be angry with you. They aren’t angry. They’re just bewildered_ , he told himself, distracted as they pulled out from the complex to await SHIELD’s arrival, _Steve doesn’t know. He doesn’t need to know. Natasha will keep it a secret. They just don’t know how to handle the situation—_

 _And neither do you,_ his unhelpful subconscious supplied.

_Shut up, me._

Shaking his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts, Tony forced himself to become swallowed up in the conversation if naught but to save his own sanity.

“So run this by me again. They were creating an army of Avenger children?” Clint asked, sitting on one of the few pieces of furniture that had not been destroyed in the attack.

“Something like that. They were splicing components of each of our DNA with a synthetic host in an attempt to create advanced children that they could then train to be soldiers,” Natasha answered carefully, looking out the window at Thor and Hulk talking amongst themselves, “If the child displayed advanced qualities, they were kept alive.”

She looked over at Tony, her usually stoic face betraying a hint of gentleness and—pain?

 _A bit too familiar, Natalie?_ Tony thought, making a note to ask her about it later.

“He is the only survivor,” she continued, looking up to Tony as if she had read his mind, “There were roughly ten splices per Avenger. So out of sixty—”

“They only let one live,” Steve finished.

From the corner where he had been reading details of the overall experiment—Tony made sure he did not get any papers about the child, thank god—Steve stepped out of the shadows with his arms crossed over his chest.

“So, what did it—he—what did he display?” Steve asked, flickering a glance over to the boy.

“Intelligence,” Natasha answered, her voice suddenly soft, “By year one, he was able to form simple complete sentences and count to twenty his own. For his age, that’s incredible.”

Steve, Clint, and Natasha all turned to look at Tony, the same glance of disbelief on their face.

“I know, right? The one time I couldn’t use protection,” Tony blurted, trying to fill the awkwardness that had descended in the room.

Natasha rolled her eyes and Clint laughed, but at Steve’s grimace, Tony looked down at the unconscious child in his lap. Since finding the boy, he had not taken a moment to really take a good look at the child; shifting him slightly, Tony looked over his features. He was pale, but not like Steve, yet not as tanned as he himself was.

 _More like the color of Steve’s morning coffee_ , Tony thought, a tiny smile tugging on his lips.

Quickly, he squashed the thought, setting to memorizing the child’s face. His features seemed so small and dainty, like porcelain that would break at the slightest touch. Drifting back to Steve for a moment, Tony smiled at the boy’s eyelashes, noting how much they looked like Steve’s: almost feminine, as they were long and thick.

 _You’re putting too much thought into this. You also have thick eyelashes_ , Tony’s brain scoffed.

_Do you ever shut up?_

Returning to looking over the child, Tony sighed softly. The boy’s lips, the only pinkish feature on his face, were parted slightly as he puffed small breaths. Even then, the child was tinted blue, a sure sign of the frigid cold that the babe had to endure when suspended in the liquid in the tube.

“Nat, when’s Fury’s ETA?” Tony asked, retracting a gauntlet to carefully place the pads of his bare fingers on the child’s forehead, “This kid needs medical attention _yesterday_.”

“Any minute,” Nat answered, now seated on the windowsill, “Why don’t you give him to Steve? He produces a lot of body heat. He can keep the kid warm until the Avengejet gets here.”

Tony looked up at Natasha before sliding his eyes over to Steve. The Captain’s uncomfortable posture told him enough.

“It’s fine,” Tony sighed, “J, let’s get some of this armor off if we can.”

After some maneuvering and a few close calls, Tony managed to get the suit off and into sentry mode, now cradling the child close to his own chest without disturbing the arc reactor. Bouncing slightly on his heels, he moved in circles around the room, hoping that he didn’t accidentally wake the child.

If he _could_ wake.

“Stark, what the hell are you doing?” Clint deadpanned, staring at the other’s movements.

“Trying to keep my body heat up to warm the kid,” Tony answered, raising an eyebrow at Clint, “Why, do you have a better idea?”

“Just give ‘im to Cap,” The archer snorted, plucking out one of his hearing aids to clean it on his shirt, “Steve doesn’t mind.”

Steve made a noise at that, tied between a grunt of disapproval and a hum of sarcastic amusement.

“He clearly doesn’t want to, and besides. My child,” Tony complained, moving the child to his hip, “Maybe I don’t want Cap’s dirty gloves all over him.”

Steve raised an eyebrow at that, tucking his hands under his armpits.

“I feel like I should be offended,” he said, slowly dragging his eyes up from the child to Tony’s face.

Like a cold breath on the back of his neck, Tony shivered as he felt the hairs on his neck stand up under Steve’s gaze.

 _It’s the chill of the air,_ he told himself, dragging his eyes away from Steve to go look out the window.

Seeing Thor using Mjolnir as an airplane-directing stick, Tony breathed a sigh of relief, placing a hand on the back of the child’s head in pseudo-protectiveness as the team watched the Avengejet slowly land in front of the compound. Once the ramp into the plane had been lowered, SHIELD agents streamed out, beginning their assessment of the area.

“J, let’s go,” Tony called, leaving the compound with the sentry armor following behind.

Finally spotting Fury exiting the craft, Tony looked down at the kid then back up, thinking of a million ways to try and explain _why the hell he was carrying a child that oddly looked like him but also looked nothing like him_ —

“Ah. The experiment,” Fury said once the team approached, his one eye fixed on the child, “Good. Bring him in.”

With a swoop of his stupidly fluttery cape, Fury marched back up into the Avengejet without another word. Tony turned to Natasha with a glare, to which she shrugged and merely followed Fury.

“It’s my job,” She murmured in passing, barely hesitating.

Knowing that an argument was pointless—and that Steve was listening—Tony trudged up into the Avengejet, smiling at a slightly bedraggled Bruce already buckled in for the flight.

“Hey there, little green. You did good today,” He commented, grunting as he sat down next to the brunet, “Hulk seemed happy he got some large toys today.”

Bruce rolled his eyes, smiling as he pushed his glasses up his nose.

“Ha-ha, Tony. That’s hilarious,” He hummed, looking over in Tony’s lap at the babe, “So. Child. Explain.”

Tony took a breath, looking around at the Avengers and SHIELD personnel waiting for his explanation.

“So, it goes like this—”

He took a second breath, making sure he and the babe were buckled before starting.

“As of 2012, HYDRA began the Child Soldier Initiative. Essentially, they sent operatives to gather pieces of our biological print to create as much of a DNA profile as they could. Since this was right after the Chitauri, they only focused on us, as we were the only Avengers at the time. As the program expanded, they meant to expand the DNA profiles as well, but then—then they got a hit. So, they didn’t want to waste resources chasing after Pietro or Wanda or the others.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow, leaning a bit forward in interest.

“Okay, so what were they doing? Making Avengers copies?” He asked, looking at the child, “Don’t tell me we have another Tony Stark on our hands.”

He grinned in jest, only to have his face fall at the strange look on Tony’s face.

“Do—Do we have another Tony Stark? Holy—goodness, is he yours?” Bruce finally asked disbelief etched into his features.

“He’s—yeah, he’s mine, technically,” Tony answered uncomfortably, “Anyway, I’ll get to that. So. The experiment. They collected our DNA profiles to then use with—with a synthesized egg to create zygotes. Some of them came to term, but most of them did not. Those that came to term were then watched for signs of its—of superpowers or whatever. Those that didn’t show fast enough were terminated.”

Already feeling sick at the thought, Tony took another breath, making a secondary note to create a vomit protocol for when he was outside of the suit.

“He—the kid—is the only survivor. At least, that we found at this compound. By their timeline, he’s roughly a little over a year to three years old. We’re not really sure what his exact age is. They didn’t exactly celebrate birthdays in the compound,” he explained, attempting to ignore the others’ sympathetic looks, “I was going to have you look him over when we get back to the Tower.”

“Absolutely not,” Fury interrupted from where he was eavesdropping, “The child is SHIELD property—”

“He is not _property_ , Cyclops,” Tony snapped, earning a look of surprise from Bruce, “He is a child, and since he’s technically _my_ child, he’s going back to the Tower with me. You can try to fight me, tooth and nail, but you won’t win against _me_ , and you sure as hell won’t win against the Avengers.”

“Tony,” Natasha said patiently, “Perhaps it would be best for SHIELD to care for him for the time being. You don’t exactly have any experience in parenting, let alone parenting a traumatized, abused child that’s been in captivity—”

“No-one has experience in parenting until they have a child, and given that repertoire, don’t you think I’m the best candidate for relating to the child and helping him cope?” Tony snarled, curling the child closer to his chest.

The entire jet was silent for a few seconds, a range of disbelief to nausea on the other Avengers’ faces. Shaking his head, Tony realized he was leaning forward and sat back, not making eye contact with the others.

“Anyway. Before I was _rudely_ interrupted…I’m going to have you look him over, Brucie bear. He’s for sure mine. According to some files Nat found, he started displaying advanced intelligence by ‘year one,’ whatever that means. I’m guessing a year since he was allowed out of incubation. Either way, he is extremely weak, and I want to know what steps to take next to help him get to a normal health. You can also consult with SHIELD doctors, but the kid stays at the Tower,” he said, nodding his head to enforce his decision.

A little skeptical, Bruce glanced between Fury and Tony, not wanting to stir up any unnecessary drama.

“Alright, I’ll look. Even though I’m not a physician,” he sighed, taking off his glasses to clean on his shirt, “I hope you know what you’re doing, Tony.”

“He doesn’t,” Steve said from where he was strapped in, his head resting on his fist as he stared at the two men, “He has no idea what he’s doing. But it’s not like anyone else here knows either. It seems right to defer to the smartest in the room for the next course of action.”

“Please don’t inflate his ego,” Fury sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Fine. Stark can keep the kid. But Romanov, I want updates. You too, Banner. If anything happens with this kid that even _remarkably_ seems strange, I want to know about it. Natasha: if Stark ever, in your judgment, seems incapable of taking care of this child, you extract him and bring him to HQ. Understood?”

With her nod, Fury retreated into the cockpit of the jet, leaving the six to their own devices. Once the door was shut, Tony felt his shoulders relax, knocking his head back against the seat.

“Friend Stark, where will we put the boy? The Tower is not accommodated for a child,” Thor asked, absentmindedly twirling his hammer in one hand, “Will Miss Potts be taking care of him?”

Swallowing the curse on his tongue, Tony shook his head, reaching up to scrub a hand over his face.

“No. Pep—ah, Pep probably won’t want anything to do with this,” he said honestly, avoiding Steve’s prodding gaze, “I’ll keep him in a room on my floor, and once Bruce and I have determined the age of the boy and made some rough measurements, I’ll send for appropriate clothing and child necessities. Whatever they are. Perhaps you, Birdbrain and Widow would like to go shopping? I know you all like to spend my money as a hobby. Might as well put it to good use.”

“Hey, I don’t like to _just_ spend your money. I also juggle,” Clint argued, trying not to grin at Bruce’s soft laughter.

“What’s his name?”

The jet was silent again, all heads turned to look at the Captain.

“What?” Steve said, raising a brow, “I figure he should have a name. We can’t just call him pronouns for the rest of his life.”

 _The rest of his life_ , Tony thought, feeling the phrase echo in his mind, _God, the rest of my life, too._

“I—I hadn’t exactly prepared a list of boy names in the happenstance I had a child,” he finally said, shrugging, “I’ll take suggestions—no, I will not name him Clinton _or_ Francis. Anything else can be accepted.”

“James?” Bruce suggested, “For Rhodey? That seems like the most obvious name.”

Tony hummed at that, looking down at the child’s soft features.

“James as a middle name would work,” he decided, brushing a few stray curls out of the boy’s face, “I don’t think Rhodes would be totally on board with me naming a HYDRA experiment after him, regardless of it being a child.”

“What about Pietro?” Clint suggested quietly, looking up from his quiver, “He—”

“Wanda would have a fit,” Bruce interrupted, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“That, and she might find it disrespectful,” Tony added, a twinge of loss ringing in his chest, “I’m also not so keen on this whole naming my kind-of child after people I know. Except Rhodey. I like the name James, anyway. He can deal with it.”

“So, a name you don’t have any connection to?” Natasha said thoughtfully, looking up from the dossier in her lap.

“Preferably, yes.”

“How about Peter?”

Everyone turned to look at Steve again, causing him to roll his eyes heavenward.

“What?” He said, spreading his hands out, “It’s close to Pietro, but isn’t Pietro, and it’s a classic name. Nothing too…outlandish, like some celebrity baby names. It’s a good, strong name. Maybe you’d want Pietro, though. It’s Italian. Peter is Greek. They mean the same thing, though. To be strong, or to be a rock.”

Tony opened his mouth to object, but at Natasha’s stern look, he knew to at least think about it. Looking down at the boy in his arms, he grumbled under his breath, fiddling with the blanket the child was wrapped in.

“Peter,” he murmured, lightly brushing the child’s face with the pad of his index finger, “Strong. You’d have to be that to be my kid, huh?”

The more he let the name perch on the end of his tongue, the more Tony decided it wasn’t too bad of a name.

“Peter James Stark. How does that sound?” He asked, finally looking back up at the team.

“Tis a good name, Anthony,” Thor answered, hefting Mjolnir onto his shoulder, “Aye. I think it is quite fitting for the son of the Man of Iron to be strong.”

Clint shrugged his approval, followed by a hum from Bruce and a knowing look from Natasha. Turning to Steve, Tony swore the Captain looked a little red, but he chalked it up to the heat in the Avengejet’s cabin.

“I think it’s good,” Steve voiced calmly, slicking back his sweaty hair, “But it’s ultimately up to you, Stark.”

Ignoring the twinge of annoyance at _still_ being called his last name, Tony looked down at the boy for a few silent beats, watching his even breaths.

“Alright. For now, he’s Peter James Stark,” He decided, “So I guess we’ll just call him Peter. Peter James. PJ?”

“PJ,” Bruce affirmed, lightly elbowing Tony’s side with a smile, “He definitely looks like a PJ.”

“PJ? Like pajamas?” Clint snorted, twirling an arrow between his fingers before slipping it back into his quiver.

“It’s fitting,” Natasha answered, raising an eyebrow at the archer, “Don’t be rude. Especially when your name keeps getting written down as ‘cunt’ at Starbucks.”

“Language,” Steve and Tony said simultaneously, shooting their heads up to look at each other in disbelief.

“Oh, brother,” Bruce sighed, thankful that JARVIS then announced their descent into Avengers Tower.


	4. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Name? Age? Serum?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd. Comments & Kudos appreciated.

Once the jet had safely docked, Tony unbuckled himself and PJ, ignoring how his knees cracked in protest from the movement.

“J, send the suit off to docking,” he called out, careful to hold PJ close to his chest.

He took his time disembarking, not wanting to accidentally trip or disturb the babe in any way. Feeling the eyes of the Avengers, plus those of Fury and the remaining SHIELD agents on his back, Tony kept his head tucked against PJ’s cheek, keeping one hand on the back of his head to keep the boy supported correctly.

“Brucie bear, you’re with me,” He said, hearing the other scientist’s familiar footsteps behind him, “He’ll need a full exam and possibly a few blood tests. Even though we have HYDRA’s initial data, I want to run his chart just in case something odd comes up.”

“Do you have any family history of disease?” Bruce asked, pushing his glasses up his nose as they made their way down to his lab.

“Other than alcoholism? Not that I know of,” Tony snorted, stepping into a private elevator, “I’m more concerned about something else.”

Once the elevator doors were shut and Tony knew they were secure, he let out a sigh of relief, feeling his shoulders sag from the tension leaving them. He turned to his left slightly, nodding over his right shoulder.

“Back pocket. Grab the papers.”

Raising an eyebrow, Bruce gently extracted the hastily folded packet, opening it up to begin reading. Tony turned to watch him, trying to quell his heart rate as realization spread across the scientist’s features.

“Yeah. I know.”

“Does he?”

“Not yet.”

“ _Tony_.”

“I can’t tell him!” Tony hissed, keeping his voice down as the elevator doors opened to Bruce’s lab, “Could you imagine? He’d wring my neck before—never mind. Forget about it. I want to see if PJ has the serum, and if he does… I don’t know what I’ll do. We’ll do. I’ll probably have to reinforce stuff so he doesn’t accidentally break sh—stuff.”

Bruce groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head.

“Natasha knows,” Tony continued, following Bruce over to one of the examination tables, “She’s given me a month to figure something out before she tells him. I hope you’ll grant me the same.”

Sighing loudly, Bruce rolled his eyes, helping Tony to lay the boy down on the table. He grabbed up a sweater he usually kept on his lab chair, balling it up to make him a makeshift pillow.

“Fine,” he decided, turning to shrug on his lab coat and latex gloves, “If Nat will wait, so will I. But you’ll need to—”

“Tell him eventually, I know,” Tony finished, slumping down on a chair nearby, “I will. But let’s get the kid into some sort of healthy place, first. Yeah? Please, Brucie bear?”

Putting on his best puppy dog eyes, Tony let his lower lip jut out slightly and tilted his head down, blinking his long eyelashes at Bruce.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll help,” Bruce conceded, rolling his eyes as he pulled open a drawer to gather some sterilized equipment, “But you need to help me, first. I’m not getting this kid—”

“PJ.”

“I’m not getting PJ’s blood drawn by myself,” he corrected, pulling over a table on wheels to begin setting up for the phlebotomy, “Take that ratty thing off him and keep it on the table so he doesn’t have to rest against the cold metal. I’d also recommend you send for clothes for him once we do his measurements. For now, he should be able to wear spare t-shirts and the like. JARVIS, could you ask Natasha if she has any spare shirts?”

“Of course, Doctor Banner.”

“Why Natasha?” Tony asked, carefully untangling PJ from the filthy blanket.

“She’s the smallest,” Bruce snorted, setting the phlebotomy equipment to the side, “Okay. First, we’ll do basic measurements, give him somewhat of a physical. Then, after we do the draw, I want to put in a request for a CAT scan.”

He handed Tony his own set of gloves, then pointed to a small device on the table behind Tony.

“Penlight, please,” Bruce asked, holding his hand out.

Tony quickly handed it over, attempting not to lean too much into the scientist’s space as he began his exam. He stared as Bruce carefully peeled open PJ’s left eyelids: an unfocused, honey-brown eye stared at the ceiling, all too familiar in color and shape. Bruce flickered the light over the eye, humming as the pupil dilated.

“Good. He’s doing well. Breathe, Tony,” he said softly, closing the eyelids.

Tony let out the breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding, crossing his arms before nodding to let Bruce continue. Once Bruce opened PJ’s right eyelids, they both gasped, staring at the boy before slowly looking up at each other.

“That’s—That’s not—”

“It is.”

“Is what? Possible? I know it’s possible.”

“ _Tony_. I also know it’s possible. I’m just saying—”

“It can’t be!”

Bruce sighed, waving the light over the eye to check dilation before letting the eyelids close. He turned to Tony, watching the brunet pace around the room.

“It can’t be, or you don’t want it to be because once Steve sees him he’ll know?” He asked quietly.

Tony stopped in his tracks, grinding his teeth as he shook his head at the floor.

“That’s not fair,” he finally said, dropping his arms to his sides as he turned back to Bruce, “And you know it.”

Bruce hesitated, pursing his lips as he looked Tony over.

“Maybe it’s best if he knows now,” he offered, moving to stand a little closer to him, “Tony, he’s not going to hurt you, or PJ. He’ll probably be overwhelmed, but we all are. You can’t hide this from him and PJ doesn’t know any better. If you really want to keep him, it’d be best to identify who his immediate family is first. And that includes Steve. Besides, even if you _didn’t_ want to be in a relationship with Steve—”

“Careful,” Tony tried.

“—He’ll recognize his own eye, Tony!” Bruce talked over him, waving a hand in frustration, “None of the rest of us have bright blue eyes. Even Thor’s are too dark to be this shade of blue. As soon as Steve sees PJ with his eyes open, he’ll know. And he’ll be hurt that you didn’t tell him right away.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Tony hissed back.

He took a careful, calming breath, attempting to keep both Bruce and himself from getting riled up.

“Look. If PJ has the serum, I’ll tell Steve. The eye could be from the synthesized egg,” Tony decided, letting the fight drain from his shoulders, “Okay? I—fu— _frick_ , Bruce. Steve already hates me. I don’t want him to also be stuck co-parenting with me.”

“Speaking of, I was surprised you even took PJ in,” Bruce commented, quickly changing the subject, “You’ve not exactly ever been the fathering type. At least, in my observation.”

“Hey! Dum-E and J count,” Tony argued, watching Bruce pick up a seamstress’ measuring tape as he began to take down PJ’s measurements, “And, besides—I _like_ kids. And maybe I want to give him a good life away from SHIELD’s eyes and treat him the way Howard never treated me, and show him kindness for once in his small and already miserable life.”

Bruce slowly slid his gaze over to Tony and made eye contact with him for a few seconds before returning to taking measurements.

“You’re oddly open about your emotions today,” he said, causing Tony to laugh.

“Thanks, Doc,” he hummed, thankful that Bruce let it drop, “So. How does he look?”

“Malnourished, which is to be expected. But, remember, if he is Steve’s, it’s possible he has Steve’s original body type,” Bruce answered, pulling the table full of phlebotomy equipment next to PJ’s exam bed, “Let’s do his draw now so I can take a look at it. That’ll also give us better judgment on what to look for. It’s possible that, if he doesn’t have the serum and still has pieces of Steve’s genetic code, he could develop all of Steve’s old ailments.”

“Oh, shoot, I hadn’t even thought about that,” Tony grunted, gingerly holding PJ’s right arm upwards so Bruce could begin wrapping the tourniquet, “He’d really need to see SHIELD if he had asthma, anemia, an inhibited immune system…”

“Stop talking,” Bruce commanded.

In the silence, the doctor carefully slipped the needle into PJ’s arm, only keeping it there as long as absolutely necessary. Once enough blood had been drawn, he removed the needle, having Tony hold a strip of gauze on the mark until he could put an Iron Man band-aid on it.

“Classy,” Tony murmured, putting PJ’s arm back on the table.

“Thanks. Ran out of Hulk ones,” Bruce answered, taking the vials over to his microscope, “Alright, let me do my work. Just, don’t touch anything. Go sit next to your son.”

_My son_.

Tony did as he was told, pulling over a lab stool and moving the finished phlebotomy equipment. Carefully, he picked up PJ’s small hand, lightly holding it in his own. Somewhere along the way, he got lost in his own thoughts, looking down at the child with an expression caught between worry and adoration. Shaking himself out of the haze, Tony picked up Bruce’s clipboard, looking down at the measurements.

“J, I’m going to read these measurements off to you, then order clothing that would fit a child of that size,” Tony called.

As he ticked down the measurements, he kept PJ’s hand held in his own, idly rubbing his thumb over the child’s tiny knuckles. Once he got to the bottom, he looked over at the boy, a tiny frown on his face.

“Bruce, what kind of stuff should the kid have? He was literally kept in a huge tube, so I don’t know if he needs, like, a bassinet—”

“No, Tony,” Bruce snorted, looking up from his microscope to roll his eyes, “Since we only have an average time, let’s go around two years of age. Height-wise and weight-wise, he’s just under what a normal two-year-old boy should be. And, of course—”

“He’s not a normal boy,” Tony finished, shaking his head, “We’ll also have to test his knowledge, eventually. When he wakes up. He might display intellect, but they probably didn’t teach him colors and shapes in HYDRA preschool.”

“Yeah. JARVIS, order books for PJ that are for one to two-year-olds,” Bruce said, returning to his microscope, “And perhaps mini learning tools, like paper and markers, blocks, that sort of thing.”

“Get nerd books too, J. Simple stuff about computers, math, robots—y’know, since we’re going whole hog here, might as well get some about art and history, too,” Tony added.

“Very good, Sir.”

Looking back down at PJ, Tony gently brushed a few of the boy’s flyaway hairs out of his face, then covered him back up with some of the extra blanket. He sighed softly, pressing a few fingers to the boy’s chest to feel his faint, steady heartbeat.

“You making any progress over there?” He called, not looking up.

“Actually, yeah,” Bruce answered, still staring into the microscope as he moved a slide around, “It’s quite fascinating, actually. He _definitely_ has the serum—the white blood cells are acting and moving the same way Steve’s does. However, there are white blood cells that seem to be normal, like yours and my own. It’s almost as if a watered-down version of the serum was transferred.”

“That just seems like basic genetics. If the serum overwrote Steve’s DNA and then combined with mine, PJ would have half of the serum-coated DNA and then half regular,” Tony replied, scratching his chin as he finally looked over at Bruce, “So then, in theory, he’ll be affected half as much as Steve was by the serum. He won’t be normal, but he won’t be a super soldier. He’ll just be—”

“—Way, way, _way_ above average,” Bruce continued, leaning back from the microscope to scrub his eyes, “But also, we don’t know how the serum will continue to react. For all we know, as he gets older, the serum could naturally divide more than the regular white blood cells and he could develop full super-serum abilities. I don’t really know—it’s just a guess.”

Both men looked at each other for a moment before looking down at the boy, who was still asleep and much too pale against the sheet that covered him.

“I guess I have to tell Steve,” Tony finally said, feeling as though a gnarled hand had wrapped itself around his heart and squeezed.

“If it helps, I’ll be there to back you up,” Bruce said, rolling back over to them to put a hand on Tony’s arm, “You wanted the responsibility. The kid isn’t going to go anywhere, regardless if Steve decides to be a part of his life or not.”

“He’ll want to be. Steve may have a bad track record with kids, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t _like_ them. He’s just awkward. I’m more afraid of him not wanting to be a part of his life when _I’m_ around and then attempting to skew this whole thing to be like a kid drifting between separated parents,” Tony replied hollowly, looking down at PJ’s small hand in his own, “I won’t do that to PJ. We gotta—we gotta do right by this kid, Brucie. _My_ kid. Regardless if Rogers tries to have his cake and eat it too.”

Bruce nodded, standing from his chair with a tiny grunt.

“Okay. So, here’s the game plan,” he said, moving to tidy up the lab, “Natasha will hopefully have a shirt for us soon to put the kid into, or JARVIS will have clothes sent here. Once PJ is dressed, I’m hoping by that point he will have woken up, and we can try our best to get him to understand what’s going on. I’m really, _really_ hoping he recognizes you or Steve. Less because of who you are, but more of because your eyes will be familiar to him. But that’s the best case scenario. Worst case is he absolutely freaks out since he won’t know where he is or who any of us are and we have to subdue him.”

“You’re just bright and cheery, aren’t you,” Tony answered flatly, standing from his chair.

“Sir, Doctor Banner, Miss Romanov requests both of your presences in the main common lounge,” JARVIS interrupted.

“Thanks, J, tell her we’ll be right up.”

With a sigh, Tony scooped up PJ wrapped in the blanket into his arms again, holding him close to his chest. He bounced the child slightly, trying to help keep him warm.

“Nat better have a shirt,” he grunted to himself, waiting for Bruce to be done cleaning before they turned and headed for the elevator again.

The ride up to the common area was quiet, but the silence was, for once, welcome. Tony took the opportunity to try and come up with how he was going to explain the entire genetic code component to Steve, only to shake it from his head.

_Bruce can tell him all that later. You just have to think up why you decided not to tell him in the first place. Hey, Steve, I totally forgot to mention that you’re also PJ’s father because I’m afraid you’ll leave and disappear since even considering trying some sort of friendly relationship with me is your worst nightmare!_

“Stop thinking, Tony,” Bruce cut through his thoughts, leveling him with a look.

“I’m trying, green bean, I’m trying.”

The elevator opened to the common lounge, where Avengers new and old had gathered. Even Pepper had come down, her delicate form perched on the edge of the long couch as she laughed at one of Sam’s terrible jokes. They all seemed to be lost in conversation, but once Tony and Bruce approached, the noise died down to suffocating silence, all eyes on them and the bundle in Tony’s arms. Out of the corner of his eye, Tony saw Steve shift, and he nearly turned to bolt, but a familiar hand rested on his arm to keep him from moving.

“Glad you came up so fast. We wanted to call a team meeting to talk about this,” Natasha said quietly, a t-shirt bunched in her other hand, “Let’s go into the other room to get him dressed while Bruce brings them up to speed.”

Looking back at his friend, Bruce nodded at him, giving Tony a small sliver of relief. With an inward sigh, he followed Natasha to the next room over, setting PJ down on a small chaise lounge. He carefully unwrapped the boy from the blanket, tossing it into a nearby trashcan before taking the shirt from Natasha.

“I’m—I’m not really sure—”

Nat rolled her eyes and snatched the shirt back, putting it on the boy normally. Even though it still swamped him, Nat rolled up the bottom hem and tied it between his legs, creating a makeshift onesie.

“Oh. That was easier than I thought,” Tony said blankly, ignoring Natasha’s snicker, “What? I literally have _zero_ experience with human children. It’s not like Dum-E or J ever needed clothes.”

“Believe me, I know,” she replied, raising an eyebrow, “Come on, then. Let’s get the team caught up.”

Tony grunted, but scooped PJ back up anyway, feeling a twinge of guilt at constantly shifting the boy around. He followed Natasha back to the common room, watching Bruce attempt to field questions from the Avengers.

“So, you are saying that HYDRA still has our DNA?” Wanda had asked, absentmindedly swirling her hand to telekinetically stir her coffee with a spoon.

“Not yours. Only myself, Steve, Thor, Tony, Clint, and Natasha. Since PJ was a success, they didn’t bother attempting to harvest different DNA,” Bruce explained wearily, “So you, Sam, Rhodey, James, Vision, Scott, and T’Challa are all safe. At least, as far as we know. JARVIS has already updated Vision and T’Challa on the situation, and Tony’s going to call Rhodey once we’re done here.”

“Can you explain the whole mixing-Avengers-DNA thing again?” Scott piped up from the couch, “They were, what, trying to make the ultimate Avenger?”

“Basically, yes,” Natasha answered, pushing Tony forward to join Bruce while she sat on the couch, “And that one is the only survivor.”

All eyes turned to the babe in Tony’s arms. Even though he was used to a thousand gazes, feeling Pepper’s and Steve’s eyes on him made his reactor suddenly feel a hundred pounds heavier. Attempting to steel himself, Tony nodded, shifting PJ to better hold him.

“The only survivor in the compound,” he continued, “And the only survivor from the experiment. That is, assuming they didn’t attempt to recreate it in other facilities.”

“So, he’s yours then?” Sam asked from where he was lounging against a clearly annoyed Bucky.

The room was dead silent.

_I hate silence._

“Yes,” Tony confirmed, unable to watch Pepper’s eyes widen, “He is mine. Genetically. His name is Peter James Stark. PJ for short.”

“James? For Rhodey?” Pepper finally spoke, shifting a little on the arm of the couch.

“Yeah,” he murmured, reaching up to pet the soft curls on PJ’s head, “He’ll probably be a _little_ ticked, but I think he’ll appreciate it.”

“So, who’s ya match?”

The group looked at Bucky, who shrugged.

“They were makin’ the ultimate Avenger. So, who was ya match? Widow?” He asked, glancing over at the Russian.

“No,” Tony and Bruce answered simultaneously.

“They put their spliced DNA into a synthetic egg,” Bruce explained, waving away the silent question.

“But who is it? If it’s not Natalia, nor you, then who?” Bucky continued.

Feeling Steve’s eyes on him, Tony couldn’t help but close his eyes, wishing the floor would swallow him whole.

“Steve’s. He’s Steve’s,” he heard himself say.

“Holy. Shit.”

“Language,” Tony interrupted, eyes snapping open to glare at Sam, “Kid present.”

“Dude. Dude… _dude_ ,” Scott repeated, glancing between Tony and Steve, “You guys have a _kid_.”

“Yes, Lang, we established that,” Natasha sighed, shaking her head.

“Captain, aren’t you going to say anything?” Thor said, turning his head toward him.

Oddly silent, Steve merely stared at Tony and PJ, his fist curled under his chin. After a beat, he rose from his chair, taking the few short strides across the room to stand next to them. Feeling Steve’s hot gaze just above him, Tony nearly bolted, ignoring every fiber in his body as he forced himself to look up at the Captain.

“We had to make sure before we told you,” He said hesitantly, ready to run if Steve even so much as _looked_ at PJ wrong, “He has the serum.”

Steve merely raised a hand up to the babe’s cheek, shakily stroking his thumb over the soft skin. Then, Tony swore he saw a ghost of a smile on his lips as he pulled his hand away. Steve nodded, turned on his heel, grabbed up his shield from beside his chair and left the room as silently as he had entered. They all watched him leave before Bucky and Sam scrambled to their feet, chasing after him. Tony merely staggered backward toward the fireplace, sitting down on the raised edge of the brickwork. He carefully maneuvered PJ to be sitting in his lap, still stroking the boy’s hair with a shaky hand.

“Oh, Tony,” Pepper murmured softly, getting up from her spot to go and sit next to them.

She laid a careful hand on his arm and another on his back, rubbing comforting circles onto his stressed muscles. He barely acknowledged her touch, only slightly turning his head toward her. Sighing, she rested her head on his arm, squeezing his bicep.

“Don’t worry. It’ll all work out,” She said quietly, “And if he gives you any trouble, you tell me. I will personally make sure he suffers.”

“Thanks Pep,” Tony muttered, a tiny smile twitching onto his lips, “But it’s not his fault.”

“It’s not yours, either, Anthony,” Pepper pointed out, shaking her head, “No one could have seen this coming. And the fact—the fact that you even took in Peter—”

“PJ.”

“—the fact that you even took in PJ is a huge step. You know Steve would have wanted the team to have him, not SHIELD. Especially not after they were compromised. You did the right thing,” she continued, “And, I hope you don’t mind me saying, he really is cute, Tony. PJ, that is. He looks just like you. And for what it’s worth, you’re going to be a great dad.”

A sudden surge of longing spread through his chest at the term, causing Tony to almost choke on his breath. He turned to the ginger, painful fondness evident in the tired wrinkles around his eyes.

“Pepper,” Tony managed, voice cracking, “I’m so, so sorry—”

“Hush,” she soothed, reaching up to cup his face, “It’s okay. I finally get a child to spoil that I can leave with his parents when he decides to be a brat.”

Tony laughed gently, knocking his forehead against hers. Despite breaking up the year before, he still felt an enormous amount of love for Pepper and was glad for her calming words.

“You always know what to say,” he murmured, sitting up straight with a tiny smile.

“Not really. I just know what flavor of bull you deal in,” she answered, grinning as he laughed, “Now, let me see my little nephew.”

With a grunt, Tony turned PJ around, setting him on his other knee so he was facing Pepper. She cooed softly, reaching to gently pick up one of his tiny hands.

“He really is beautiful, Tony. He absolutely is,” she repeated, a look of awe on her face.

As if he heard her, PJ made a soft noise before curling in toward Tony’s stomach. Blinking in surprise, Tony sucked in a breath, hastily looking between Pepper and the babe.

“Get Bruce,” he whispered urgently, “Go—and get Nat, too.”

Surprised, Pepper nodded, standing to run over to Bruce first, then to Natasha, sending them both over to Tony. Once they sat next to him, Tony put a finger to his lips, pointing at PJ. The boy made another noise, soft enough to nearly be inaudible.

“He’s waking up,” Bruce said, twirling a pen between two fingers, “We should take him—”

“No, the lab is too much like the compound. He might freak out and be afraid,” Natasha countered, carefully watching the boy, “I think it’s best to just let Tony hold him and wait it out.”

“Is the boy waking?” Thor asked loudly, his voice carrying across the room.

Scott and Clint hurriedly moved to shush him, but it was too late. The noise startled PJ, causing him to snap his eyes wide open. One brown and one blue eye quickly surveyed the scene, pure terror showing on his small face. Shaking like a leaf, he turned his face up toward Tony, tears already starting to fall down his cheeks.

“Hi,” Tony whispered quickly, “I’m Tony. You’re safe now. We took you away from the bad guys and that nasty place. I know you’re really scared right now, but we’re going to be able to help you, okay? This here is Natasha, and this is Bruce. They’re really good friends of mine and we’re going to try our best to help you.”

PJ stared at Tony, his doe eyes blinking rapidly as he attempted to process the information. He hurriedly pushed at Tony’s chest, scrambling out of his lap before running to the middle of the room, only to stop once he saw Thor, Scott, Clint, and Pepper all watching him. There was a beat of silence before he broke out into a large wail, shuddering as he dropped to his backside. The sound made Bruce clap his hands over his ears, so he stood and made to leave the room. Tony quickly grabbed his arm and forced him back down, leveling him with a look. Quietly, he swallowed the anxiety bubbling in his chest, tentatively creeping over to the child once the wailing subsided to a steady sob.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, we know this is confusing for you, especially since you’re so young,” Tony tried, improvising on his feet like he had never done before, “We—ah, we want to help, okay? Just—please, we need you to not cry, we can’t help if you’re sobbing so loud—hold on, I got you—”

He finally edged close enough to the kid to carefully reach out and place a tentative finger on his knee, not moving when PJ looked up, completely startled. He scrambled back an inch or two, chest heaving as he frantically looked around, only to have his gaze settle back on Tony.

“It’s okay,” Tony repeated, putting his hands out, palm-up, “You touch first, okay? Apparently, touch is bad for you. That’s on me. I don’t even know if you get half of what I’m saying, I really hope you do—”

“Tony,” Natasha called, causing the brunet to turn his head, “Lullaby. Try a lullaby.”

Blinking, he turned back to PJ, raising up his palm toward the boy.

“It’s called a lullaby. We do this for my friend Bruce over there when he’s this big green man,” Tony explained, keeping his palm raised as he watched the wary boy, “It helps him get grounded so he can _not_ be the big green man. He puts his hand on someone else’s hand and for whatever reason it helps him to calm down. I’m not really sure if you totally get—”

He cut himself off as the boy slowly crept toward him, snot running down his small face. PJ quickly wiped his nose and eyes on the back of his hand before reaching out, carefully placing his tiny palm against Tony’s large one. Having to internalize the loud scream of “GERMS” that threatened to crawl out of his throat, Tony merely smiled, not moving until PJ pulled his hand back.

“See? Not going to hurt you, I promise,” He said, sitting back on his haunches, “I’m just concerned. We rescued you from a pretty bad place and we want to make sure you’re okay. Now we don’t really think you’ll actually _answer_ us, seeing as you’re in a grey area of maybe-probably two years old. I know you’re really smart, though. Apparently, you can count _really_ high. I even heard you could count to _twenty_. That’s pretty awesome. I like counting myself. I’d love to teach you to count higher, if you want. I bet you could learn to count to _fifty_. Would you like that?”

The child blinked up at Tony before sticking his thumb in his mouth, seemingly chewing on it before nodding slowly. Still wary, he glanced around at the others, then ducked his head, silently staring at the floor.

“Guys, can you give us a moment? Nat, you and Bruce stay close,” Tony asked, not looking away from the boy.

He waited to hear the shuffle of footsteps disappear before turning to look, seeing that Natasha and Bruce had moved to a couch and that the others had left. Sighing thankfully, Tony turned back to PJ, seeing the kid still sniffling.

“Hey, it’s okay, I know you’re really scared,” He murmured, sitting down fully to stretch out his legs, “It’s okay to cry. No one’s going to hurt you. Not ever again. I promise. I’ll do my best to protect you, even if you don’t really get what that means right now. I’m not really sure what I’m doing, so… I guess we’ll figure this out.”

The boy looked warily between the three who remained in the room, eventually settling on Tony again. Seeming to realize they were not going to hurt him, he removed his thumb from his mouth, wiping it on the floor.

“Good, that’s it,” Tony encouraged softly, a small smile on his lips, “You’re safe here. We—ah, when we found you, you didn’t have a name. Or, at least, we couldn’t find a record of one. Do you have a name? Something those bad people called you?”

The boy blinked, a cloud of confusion passing over his face for a moment before he shook his head slowly. He went back to nervously chewing on his thumb, eyes darting to Bruce and Natasha before resting on Tony once more. Breathing slowly to control his own heart rate, Tony smiled at PJ, attempting to be as comforting as possible, despite the anxiety attack that lurked under his raw anger toward HYDRA.

“Would you like a name?” Tony asked, putting a hand in his own hair to slick his bangs back, “We thought about calling you Peter James. You look like a Peter James. A very fitting name for such a handsome fella. PJ for short, yeah? It’d be easier than constantly saying Peter James or having no name at all. What do you think?”

PJ’s eyes went wide as he nodded and whimpered, tucking his legs up to his chest. New tears rolled down his puffy cheeks, and he hurriedly wiped them away, as if to hide them from Tony. Feeling his heart break, Tony itched to reach forward again, instead settling to put his hand out again.

“It’s okay, PJ,” he said quietly, trying to hide the concern on his face, “It’s okay. I’m here. It’s okay to cry.”

After a minute or two of painfully watching the boy cry quietly, PJ eventually settled into sniffles again, rubbing his red eyes with his tiny fists. He gulped down air before scooting a little closer to Tony to settle his tiny palm against Tony’s once more.

“That’s it. I got you,” Tony soothed, ignoring every screaming instinct to scoop the boy up and hold him close, “You feeling better, huh? Maybe Natasha—”

As if she had read his mind, a tissue box was slid across the carpet and it knocked against Tony’s leg. With his other hand, Tony carefully offered the box to the boy. PJ jumped a little and Tony thought he had been frightened, before realizing the look on PJ’s face was confusion, not fear.

“Oh. It’s a tissue,” Tony explained, plucking one out of the box, “It’s like a mini disposable cloth that you use to clean stuff. Mainly faces. Like this.”

He demonstrated on his own face before plucking out another tissue, handing it over to PJ. Tentatively, PJ took the tissue, almost perfectly replicating Tony’s demonstration. With his face wiped and his nose cleaned, the boy sighed in relief, handing back the used tissue to Tony. Ignoring the urge to vomit from the wet tissue now in his hand, Tony wrapped it in the tissue he had taken, stuffing it in his pocket for the moment.

“Good job, that’s exactly what it’s for,” He praised, choosing to smile down at PJ, “You’re a real natural. Soon, you’ll have to give _me_ tissues.”

PJ giggled and Tony felt his world stop, throwing his brain 800 miles per hour due east.

_That laugh._

All too familiar and just a little higher in pitch, PJ’s stuttered giggle—the same one Steve made when he told a dirty joke—made Tony’s eyes widen enough that the boy stopped, immediately taking his palm away again and curling up again.

“No, no, no honey, it’s okay, I just—none of us have heard you laugh. I was surprised, that’s all,” Tony quickly comforted, “Don’t be upset. It’s okay.”

PJ slightly relaxed at that, returning his thumb to his mouth to suck on. He leaned to peek around Tony, curiosity in his eyes.

“What? You want to go say hi to Bruce and Natasha?” Tony asked, turning his head to see where the boy was looking.

Standing on creaky knees, Tony grunted a few choice words about his age before looking down at PJ, who merely continued to stare at the two on the couch, occasionally flicking his gaze up to Tony. Surprisingly patient, Tony held his palm out, waiting for PJ to hoist himself up onto his feet to carefully lay his palm on Tony’s hand. Once he was steady on his feet, he took his palm away, slowly inching toward the couch. Natasha and Bruce sat still, pretending to stay in conversation as to not accidentally scare the boy; close enough to touch the arm of the couch, PJ looked at the two of them, curiosity overtaking his natural flinch when they looked his way.

“Pwetty,” he mumbled around his thumb, looking up at Natasha.

_Of course, the first word we manage to get out of him is about how good Nat looks._

“Yeah, she sure is, isn’t she?” Tony answered quietly, crouching down next to the boy in the hopes of keeping him from going into another fit, “That’s Natasha. She’s Russian. That means she’s from a really, _really_ big country on the other side of the world. And that she doesn’t get cold easily.”

“I _was_ Russian,” Natasha corrected, a gentle smile on her ruby lips, “And I get cold plenty. Bucky’s sweaters help with that, though.”

“Bucky is another friend who lives with us,” Tony explained, watching PJ be entranced by Natasha, “He has a metal arm that I built. He’s alright. He’s one of Natasha’s significant others. I can explain what that is later: you don’t have to get that now.”

Completely ignoring Tony, PJ reached out toward Natasha, stubborn curiosity evident in his pouty lip. Raising an eyebrow, Natasha leaned down, letting the boy grasp at a few locks of her hair. He gasped softly around his thumb, eyes as wide as saucers. Having to bite back a laugh, Tony smiled, watching the child sift his tiny fingers through her scarlet ringlets.

“Soft, right?” He asked, nodding, “Be careful not to pull too hard.”

Immediately, PJ let go and pulled his hand back, as if he had been spooked. He whimpered softly, shaking his head before grasping at his shirt with his free hand. The three adults all shared a look before Natasha slid to the ground to be at the boy’s eye level.

“What’s wrong, _kotenok_?” She asked softly, concern lacing her usually stoic features, “We can’t read minds, little one.”

“ _Go_ ,” PJ answered earnestly, his voice a tiny whine.

“Go? Go where?” Tony asked, understandably confused.

“No, Tony. _Go_ ,” Bruce sighed, rolling his eyes skyward, “Bathroom-go. Not leave-go.”

“Oh. That makes sense.”

Standing upright, Tony stretched slightly, offering his palm to PJ again.

“C’mon, I’ll show you where the bathroom is,” he said, wiggling his fingers.

PJ merely blinked up at him, shifting his gaze between him and Natasha.

“Baf…woom?” the child repeated, taking his thumb out of his mouth to wipe on his shirt.

“…Yes. Bathroom,” Tony repeated, a little bewildered, “It’s a room. To go. I—y’know, I’m not surprised at all that they didn’t give you a bathroom to use. I don’t know why I’m surprised.”

“Tony, think later, take child to bathroom before he goes on the floor,” Bruce interrupted.

“Right. Sorry. C’mon, kiddo.”

Tony waited for PJ to put his hand on his palm again before slowly moving toward the bathroom on the main floor. Every few steps, the boy glanced back, dragging his feet a little.

“Nat, come with, please?” Tony finally called.

Sighing, she gracefully stood, jogging a little to catch up to them. As soon as she fell into step, PJ happily trotted along, his thumb back in his mouth as he looked around, attempting to take everything in.

“Once again, not surprised that you’re the favorite,” Tony snorted, leading the three to the powder room just down the hall, “Okay, kiddo. Here’s the bathroom.”

He opened the door and turned the light on, watching PJ slowly survey the room. He nervously took a step back, shaking his head. Tony sighed softly, a pang of sympathy echoing through his chest as he knelt down to the boy’s level.

“It’s okay. Do you want one of us to be in there with you?” He asked, “We don’t have to close the door, either. No one will walk by, if it’s being in a small place that’s scary.”

PJ fisted his shirt in his hand and looked warily between the two adults before starting to creep into the bathroom. With confusion written in his small features, he looked around, not touching anything. Finally looking back at Tony, PJ sniffled, tears evident in the corners of his eyes.

“Shh, don’t cry,” Tony tried to soothe, shuffling forward, “Let me help, okay? I have to touch, though. You’re too small to get up there right now and we don’t have any step stools or anything. Is it okay if I touch?”

He slowly reached out his hand, palm up, letting PJ tentatively place his little hand on Tony’s again. With a nod, Tony slowly reached forward, careful to keep an eye on PJ’s reactions as he unknotted the t-shirt and lifted it over his head.

“Alright, you’re doing really well, kiddo, okay? Almost halfway done,” Tony encouraged, handing the shirt up to Natasha, “Now I have to pick you up. It’ll take two seconds. If you get uncomfortable, don’t worry. It’ll be over really soon.”

“Just watch me, _kotenok_ ,” Natasha said calmly, catching PJ’s worried gaze, “We won’t let anything happen to you.”

Before PJ could realize what was happening, Tony picked him up under his armpits and set him on the toilet, causing his face to turn from worry to bewilderment. Shivering from the cold porcelain, he looked at Tony, his face screwing up as if he was going to cry.

“No, no, it’s okay, you did so good, you did really _really_ good,” Tony said quickly, “This is a toilet. It’s what big kids and grown-ups use when they have to _go_.”

When realization dawned on the kid’s face, Tony swore he could have done a victory dance.

“Go ahead and do your business. Nat and I are gonna turn around and wait for you to be done,” he explained, standing up.

Doing as he said, Tony stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Natasha, finally letting his calm act drop for the fraction of a second.

“You are…. surprising,” Natasha commented, turning to him with a raised brow, “Where did you learn childcare like this?”

“I didn’t. Kind of. Pep had me read books way back when, since we had a few scares back in the day,” Tony answered, picking at his nails, “I never actually _applied_ it to anything. That, and I’m kind of doing what Howard didn’t do for me. So. It’s working out, for now. We’ll see what happens tonight. I doubt he’ll enjoy it being dark.”

Once the sounds behind them turned from relieving himself to uncomfortable whimpers, the adults turned around.

“Good job, buddy. You’re already ahead of the curve,” Tony praised, kneeling back down, “I have to touch again just to make sure you’re all cleaned up, okay? Then we have to wash hands and we’re done. Can you do that for me?”

Before the thought of germs or awkwardness could even flit through his mind, Tony quickly set to making sure PJ was wiped clean and re-dressed, then lifted up to the sink to have his hands washed while Natasha flushed the toilet and set the lid down. Tony then washed his own hands, ignoring the crawling feeling under his skin.

“Get used to it,” the spy snorted, as if reading his mind, “Kids are walking germ magnets.”

“Thanks,” Tony answered, frowning, “Good to know.”

Looking down at the still confused and bewildered child, Tony held his palm out, letting PJ rest his hand on his again. Carefully, the trio made their way back to the living room, where Tony noticed Bruce was gone and another small gathering had begun. Frightened, PJ cried out and hid behind Tony’s leg, clutching at his pants for dear life.

“Whoa, whoa there, kiddo, it’s okay,” Tony soothed, quickly bending down to PJ’s level, “They’re friends. They’re good guys. The one with the metal arm I told you about already. That’s Bucky. The darker man with the red shirt is Sam and the tall guy with yellow hair is Steve.”

PJ looked at each of the men as Tony pointed them out, immediately glaring at Bucky once he recognized the connection. Slowly, he moved over to Natasha, holding onto her leg instead once Bucky tried to approach. Realizing what the kid was doing, Tony laughed, putting a hand over his reactor.

“Awe, Barnes, he doesn’t like that you’re trying to take his woman,” he teased, smiling over at PJ.

“She ain’t _my_ woman. I don’t own her,” Bucky snorted, crouching down to PJ’s level, “Hi, squirt. I’m James. But you can call me Bucky.”

PJ glared at Bucky with as much anger as a two-year old’s body could muster, standing his ground behind Natasha’s leg. Tony giggled at the sight, hiding his smile behind his hand.

“PJ, be kind. He isn’t going to take Nat away,” he said, watching the boy shuffle on his feet, “He’s trying to be nice to you.”

Eventually, PJ relented and scooted out from behind Natasha’s leg, letting her go over to Bucky to help him up from his crouch. Rolling his eyes, he knocked his shoulder against her own, a hint of a smile on his lips.

“Ew, guys, not in front of the kid,” Sam called, grinning at Tony’s laugh.

“Oi, shove it, birdboy,” Bucky shot back.

“Guys,” Steve intervened, a bit exasperated, “Please.”

Once Steve spoke, PJ looked up at him, eyes widening slightly. A bit curious, he took a step toward Steve, only to look back at Tony nervously. Silently, Tony stood with his palm out, letting PJ touch him ever so slightly. He walked the boy over to Steve, feeling his own heart thump faster as they got closer. Once they were close enough, Steve finally looked down at PJ, a harsh breath escaping his lips as a strange look overtook his face.

“Yeah, I know. Heterochromia,” Tony answered for him, cocking an eyebrow.

Looking between the two of them in confusion, PJ put a hand on his own face, already starting to sniffle. He burst into tears before Tony could explain, collapsing on the floor with his hands over his face.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, it’s not a bad thing,” Tony tried, ignoring Steve as he crouched back down to PJ’s level, “It just means you have different colored eyes. It’s really cool. There’s no need to cry, yeah?”

PJ pulled his shirt up over his face, hiding in the thin material. Feeling his heart break a little, Tony sat down, fully prepared to spend another few minutes attempting to calm the child.

“PJ, hey, no need to hide there, buddy,” He coaxed, hyperaware of Steve _not leaving them alone_ , “If you don’t want to come out for a bit, that’s okay, but I promise we weren’t saying anything bad about you—I mean, here—”

Pulling his phone from his pocket, Tony opened the camera application and turned it to the front camera, holding it in front of PJ. Slowly, the boy peeked out of the shirt and at the phone, gasping softly. He rubbed his eyes, blinking at the phone before leaning in more, examining each of his eyes with vigor.

“Yeah. Heterochromia. Different colors,” Tony explained, “That eye is brown and the other one is blue.”

Touching the skin under each eye as Tony mentioned them, PJ seemed to mouth the names of the colors, thankfully distracted.

“Has—”

At Steve’s voice, Tony looked up, surprised to see the tamped anguish on the Captain’s face.

“Has he never seen his reflection before?” Steve asked.

“I guess not. I’m assuming that HYDRA only did what was necessary for a test subject, not for a human child,” Tony answered quietly, watching PJ start to tap the phone, “He didn’t know what a bathroom was, Rogers.”

Feeling Steve bristle at the name usage, Tony swallowed his momentary guilt, more focused on pocketing his phone and shushing PJ before the boy could whine. Realizing the device wasn’t coming back, the boy opened his mouth as if to cry, but quickly snapped it shut, looking up at Steve with wary eyes.

“What? What’s wrong?” Tony asked, the glance not going unnoticed, “Steve’s a good guy.”

PJ stuck his thumb into his mouth again, fisting his shirt with his other hand as he looked up at Steve. Slowly, he moved closer to Tony, a little shaky as he put his hand on top of Tony’s.

“Steve, kneel down,” Tony asked quietly, resisting the urge to pull the boy into a hug and carry him off, “You’re looming over him, at this height.”

Nodding, the Captain crouched down, easily sitting crisscross on the floor. He tried to smile at PJ, but even Tony could tell that he was highly uncomfortable with the entire situation.

_I tried to keep you out of it, blame Bruce for this one,_ Tony thought, awarding himself a point.

“Hey, you going to say hi to Steve?” He asked PJ, watching the boy stare at the Captain, “He won’t bite. He’s just a bit big. Don’t worry, he scares me too sometimes.”

The boy giggled slightly, and Tony felt his breath be sucked from his lungs as recognition crossed Steve’s face.

_Of course he’d recognize his own laugh, dumbass._

Watching Steve carefully, Tony held his breath until the blond finally gave a real smile.

“Hey, now there’s a good sound,” He said softly, clearly laying on his boyish charm, “You have a cute laugh, kiddo.”

PJ inched a little closer to Tony as he giggled again, shyly ducking his head so he looked up at Steve through long lashes. Smiling, Steve reached over as if to ruffle his hair, only to have PJ shrink back, his face quickly screwing up as if to cry again. Steve immediately retracted, a flash of hurt crossing his face.

“It’s okay,” Tony soothed quickly, glancing at Steve, “He won’t hurt you—Steve, put your hand out, palm up. Let him come to you.”

Steve did as instructed, and slowly, PJ stood and crept back toward him, hesitating slightly before placing his small hand in the middle of Steve’s large palm. There were a few seconds before the boy finally relaxed, returning to being distracted by the room around him while keeping his hand in Steve’s own.

“Is there any reason as to why he does this?” Steve asked to Tony, not taking his eyes off the boy.

“I’m assuming he was tortured or abused in some way that someone reaching for him sets off a reaction,” Tony answered carefully, attempting to not give away his own sadness, “It’s better for him to initiate the touch part of the contact. He’ll set his hand in yours if you offer him your palm, though.”

“Lullaby?”

“Nat’s idea.”

Steve nodded, staying still as not to accidentally spook PJ. The boy still had his thumb in his mouth, idly chewing on it while he stared at Sam, Natasha, and Bucky, as if he was attempting to listen in on their conversation. After a beat, Bucky noticed, raising an eyebrow at the boy.

“Aye, squirt, you listenin’ in?” He called.

Shocked at being caught, PJ stumbled backward, his heel catching on Steve’s leg. Gravity took hold as the boy fell, causing him to plop down into the middle of Steve’s lap. Watching it happen in slow motion, Tony held his breath, sending off a few prayers to Odin that this didn’t set them back to square one for trust. PJ looked at him, then looked up at Steve, who merely offered a reassuring smile. Seemingly comforted, the boy settled back against Steve’s chest and kept his hand in Steve’s palm, opting to offer Bucky a smug look that only a two-year-old could muster. Tony watched the exchange with an open mouth, completely floored.

“You’ll catch bugs if you keep your mouth open, Stark,” Sam snickered, earning a shove from Natasha.

Tony quickly clacked his mouth shut, standing up from the floor as embarrassment coiled in his gut. He turned to try and escape down to the lab since PJ was in semi-reliable hands, figuring he could work on new stretchable Kevlar for Bruce, and maybe start the updates that Pep had requested for the latest Starkpad—

A sharp cry interrupted his stream of consciousness, loud enough for Tony to reflexively hunch as if he was going to be hit. Realizing he wasn’t in danger, he cleared his throat, turning around to address the noise. Immediately, his heart sank, seeing PJ out of Steve’s lap, his face already turning blotchy from the large tears that ran down his face.

“What? What happened? He was _just_ okay,” He asked quizzically, looking between the other Avengers.

“Guess,” Sam said flatly, rolling his eyes up, “For a genius, you really are an idiot.”

“You tried to leave,” Bucky answered, shrugging.

As a tightness settled deep in his chest, Tony knelt, holding his hand out toward PJ. Immediately, the boy dashed over, hiccupping as he shakily set his tiny hand in the middle of Tony’s palm.

“Hey. Shh, little one, it’s okay,” Tony soothed, motioning toward Natasha for the abandoned box of tissues, “You’re okay. I’m not going anywhere without you, okay? No need to cry. I’m right here.”

PJ whimpered and shook his head defiantly, smacking Tony’s palm and stomping his foot.

“I know you don’t believe me,” Tony answered, his brows creased in concern, “It’s okay. I understand. I didn’t like it either when my Dad left me alone. I won’t do that to you. I promise. I’m going to be right here beside you, whenever you need me.”

Carefully, he grabbed a tissue from the box that had thumped against his legs, reaching up to wipe the tears from the boy’s face. Tony softly shushed him, being as delicate as possible. Once PJ’s face was cleaned off, he smiled softly, tucking away the used tissue.

“C’mon. Let’s go throw these out and maybe try to get you to eat,” Tony murmured, standing up.

He carefully curled his hand around PJ’s, holding it with a light grip as not to scare him. Satisfied with the new development, PJ held tight to Tony’s hand as Tony led them to the kitchen, disposing of the multitude of gross tissues from his pocket before attempting to wash his hands. Realizing PJ wasn’t going to let go, he settled with hoisting up the boy to the sink with murmured soothing words, deciding they would both wash their hands at the same time. As soon as they were both clean, Tony turned to set PJ down, letting go of the boy for a moment.

“Tony?”

Yelping, Tony whirled around and nearly smacked into Steve’s chest, having to tilt his head up to look at the blond’s face. Finding nothing but concern etched on Steve’s features, Tony breathed a sigh of relief, spreading his hand over his reactor.

“Nearly jumpstarted me there, Cap. What’s up?” He asked, feeling a tug on his jeans.

He looked down, immediately bending at the knees when he saw how shaken PJ was.

“Hey, I’m okay, bud. Just got a little scared for a second,” Tony soothed, putting his palm up for the boy, “Don’t worry. I’m okay. I promise.”

PJ looked warily between him and Steve, his once-clean fingers now stuck back in his mouth and being chewed on. Sighing softly, Tony decided to leave it be, considering that it helped to keep the boy calm. Slowly, the boy put his other hand in Tony’s, letting Tony hold his hand lightly. Standing back up, he turned to Steve, a slightly forced smile on his lips.

“Sorry. What’s up?” He tried again.

“Can we talk? About this?” Steve asked.

_I really, really fucking hate those three words. Having a panic episode over three words is such a fucking joke. Karma’s a bitch, I guess_.

“Tony?”

Realizing he didn’t reply, Tony awkwardly cleared his throat and shrugged.

“Yeah. We probably should,” he finally managed, unaware he’d protectively tightened his hand around PJ’s without telling him.

A sharp scream surprised them both as PJ ripped his hand away from Tony’s hold, clutching it to his chest. Tears easily formed in his eyes and he screamed again when Tony tried to reach out for him.

“Oh, god, I’m so sorry, baby boy, I didn’t mean it,” Tony begged, sliding down to his knees, “PJ, I’m sorry, honey—”

Seeing Steve move out of the way in his peripheral, Tony swallowed the bile that threatened to spew from his mouth, grounding himself in the knowledge that even though Steve knew he was part of PJ, he _chose_ to walk away. For once, Tony was being the adult and owning up to the situation at hand. Yet, PJ was still screaming and crying across the kitchen, moving away each time Tony tried to get closer. At a standstill, he sat down fully against the bottom cabinets, letting PJ cry to himself as he huddled against the fridge.

“It’s okay, honey. If you want to cry, that’s okay,” He said gently, attempting to soothe the child despite being unable to get close to him, “I’m going to be right here, sweetheart. I’m sorry, pumpkin. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

He guiltily watched as PJ sunk to the floor, his cries dwindling to hiccupped sniffles as exhaustion took him over. Waiting for the boy to finally give into his tiredness, Tony carefully scooted closer to him, keeping himself an arm’s length away, just in case PJ had another episode. He put his palm out, slowly moving it closer to the boy. Looking at Tony with half-lidded eyes, PJ reached his hand out to put back in Tony’s, sticking his other one in his mouth again to chew on.

“There we go. I’m sorry if I hurt you on accident, pumpkin. I didn’t mean to,” Tony apologized, keeping his hand still, “I’ll try to be more careful, okay?”

PJ tapped Tony’s palm once, then nodded, taking his fingers out of his mouth to use his arm to wipe his face off. Laughing softly in relief, Tony stood on shaky legs, helping PJ to his feet so they could go find that box of tissues. Stepping out into the living room, they were both suddenly aware of the entirety of the team looking at them, various boxes and books scattered around the room. Tony looked down at PJ, watching the boy inch behind his legs as he looked at each of the strangers looking back.

“Hey, _kotenok_ ,” Natasha said, stepping forward to kneel down to PJ’s level, “My friends want to meet you. Is that okay?”

Eyes widening, PJ nodded quickly, letting go of Tony to grasp at Natasha’s curls. A rare smile skirted across her lips as she put her hand out, letting the boy hold onto her. Together, they walked over to the group of Avengers; quickly, Natasha scooped him up under his armpits and set him on his feet on the arm of the couch, putting him at everyone else’s height.

“Is this okay?” She asked, setting a hand on his back.

The boy nodded quickly, grasping at her hair again with a soft gasp. A few of the others laughed, to which he ducked his head, shyness evident in his gestures. Watching it from afar, Tony carefully sat down at the wet bar, pulling out his phone for a second. Noticing a couple dozen texts from Rhodey, he groaned to himself, knowing he was in trouble. He set off a quick text then pocketed the device, turning his attention back to the current meet-and-greet,

“That’s Wanda, she’s a witch and can move things with her mind. You already know Sam and Bucky, then that’s Clint. He does archery and likes purple. And finally, this is Pepper. She’s Tony’s best friend. She does paperwork for us sometimes, but she mostly keeps Tony sane,” Natasha was saying, pointing out each person to PJ as he giggled.

“I resent that,” Tony mumbled under his breath.

“No, you resemble it,” Bucky called, making a nonplussed face, “Come over here and be social.”

“Enhanced super-soldier hearing sucks,” Tony complained back, sliding off the stool to pad over to the group, “And for the record, I usually _am_ social. I just happen to now have a small charge that I’d rather devote my time and energy to.”

“Riiight,” Sam drawled, “That’s why he—ow!”

He pouted and rubbed his arm, glaring at Bucky, who merely smirked.

“Kids, no hitting,” Natasha sighed, looking up at PJ, “Don’t do that. Hitting isn’t nice.”

PJ nodded absentmindedly, not even bothering to hide his staring at Pepper. She merely smiled back at him, happy to have his attention for a few moments.

“Hey, wait, where’d Steve go?” Clint piped up.

“Anywhere but here,” Tony answered with faux cheer, a smile plastered on his face.

“Actually, he’s been the one carrying up these boxes. JARVIS had some stuff delivered express,” Pepper corrected, finally taking her eyes off the boy, “He’s probably down in the guest room by your bedroom building things and setting stuff up.”

Tony reared back at that, blinking at her with disbelief.

“What?” he choked.

Natasha nodded in agreement, helping PJ off the couch now that introductions had been made.

“He looked pretty frazzled and asked if there was anything he could do to help PJ’s transition into Tower life,” She confirmed, “Some boxes had already arrived, so he’s been doing that for the past twenty minutes or so. However long you were in the kitchen with PJ.”

Tony gaped for a moment, then snapped his mouth shut, glancing between Natasha and Pepper.

“…I should probably help him, then,” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Maybe PJ would like to help, too. We can try to find some real clothes for him and maybe a toy or two. Oh, and he needs to be fed, that’s what I was _trying_ to do—”

“I’ll feed him,” Natasha said gently, “Clint has cheerios in the house and I’m sure Scott won’t mind sharing some of Cassie’s juice that he keeps around. You go check on Steve and find PJ clothes.”

Tony crouched down to PJ’s level, putting his hand out. The boy easily stuck his out to rest in Tony’s palm, giving him a quizzical look.

“Can you go with Nat and eat without me?” He asked, cocking his head to judge the boy’s response, “I need to go get you something better to wear. Can you be without me for a bit?”

The boy shifted from foot-to-foot nervously, but he eventually bobbed his head in a nod, long brunet curls flopping in front of his eyes. Smiling warmly, Tony slowly reached forward, brushing the curls out of PJ’s face to tuck behind his ear.

“Okay. If you need me, tell Nat, and I’ll come right away, I promise,” He soothed, “Go eat, pumpkin. I’ll be back.”

He stood on creaky knees, ignoring the various stunned and amused looks he was receiving from the team. With a gentle touch on the shoulder from Nat, he headed off toward the guest room, toward the increasing sounds of swing music. Poking his head into the room, Tony couldn’t help the small gasp that escaped his lungs; the room had been cleared of regular furniture, and there was Steve, wiping sweat from his brow as he looked down at a finished small bedframe up against the wall. Hearing the gasp, Steve swiveled toward the door, causing Tony to reflexively shrink back.

“Hey,” Steve called, attempting what looked to Tony to be a strained smile, “How is he?”

“Better,” Tony answered, padding into the room, “Nat’s feeding him. I came in search of clothes and maybe a few books to try and entertain him while we all try to discuss what we’re doing.”

“Those boxes have clothes,” Steve pointed to a stack in one corner, “And the boxes in the living room are mostly book and toys. A team meeting sounds like a good idea. Hopefully, after that—"

Feeling Steve’s eyes on his back, Tony made quick work of going through the boxes, huffing a laugh at the amount of Avengers-themed clothes that JARVIS had chosen. Once he’d picked out an outfit and found a box of Avengers pampers in the bottom—

_Oh_ _my god, there’s Hawkeye ones. There isn’t a bigger gag than having your kid piss on their image._

—from which Tony promptly plucked out a Hawkeye diaper and added it to the handful of clothing.

“ _Tony_.”

Turning at Steve’s voice, he hummed questioningly, pretending as though there wasn’t an uncomfortable tension in the room.

“Steve,” Tony answered, actually catching himself, because wait, when the fuck were they on a first name basis—

“I said, hopefully after the team meeting, we can…talk,” Steve said—and was he shifting nervously?—“This isn’t exactly…the best situation.”

“Right, finding out you and I have a genetically engineered child isn’t exactly the best for you,” Tony said before he could snap his mouth shut.

_Foot, meet mouth._

“That’s not what I meant,” Steve replied, his mouth flattening into something resembling a strained grimace.

“Isn’t it?” Tony replied flippantly, feeling his pulse start to pick up.

_We are definitely not having this conversation. Ever._

“Look, Rogers—”

“Steve.”

Tony paused, mouth half-open. He slowly closed it, looking up at Steve with more annoyance than he began with.

“Look, _Steve_ , my kid needs this stuff, and he might start freaking out again if I don’t go back. We can talk about whatever problems you have later,” He continued slowly, watching the vein on the other’s forehead pop as he clenched his teeth.

“Our,” Steve said, puffing up his chest slightly.

“Our…problems?”

“Our _kid_.”

_Oh_ _my fucking hell._

“Right. Our kid. Okay. I sense—I sense something that sounds like an emotional conversation and I’m going to avoid it by walking away—”

Tony turned to leave only to smack into Natasha’s chest, grunting as he stood in the redhead’s one-arm hold. Sighing loudly in defeat, he looked down, seeing the littlest monster innocently standing next to Nat.

“Hey you. I was bringing you an express delivery, but I kinda got held up in Brooklyn,” he explained, his voice muffled by Natasha’s shoulder.

The boy giggled, which made Tony smile, despite knowing Steve and Natasha were having a silent face-conversation. He pulled back from Natasha to crouch down to PJ’s level, showing him the clothes.

“I wasn’t sure what you’d like, so I went with Black Widow,” Tony explained, grinning at the boy’s wide eyes, “That’s Nat. She looks pretty cool on a shirt, yeah?”

With a shaky hand, PJ reached out to touch the shirt, only to burst into tears. He plopped down in the doorway and sobbed, rubbing his eyes. Tony was taken aback for a second before his brain kicked in and he attempted to soothe the boy.

“What? What is it? PJ, shh, it’s okay,” He tried, “What’s wrong?”

“He’s overwhelmed,” Steve interrupted, causing a shiver to go down Tony’s spine, “He came from a place where the world was designed to hurt him and he had _nothing_. Giving him all this stuff right away is a huge change. He needs a bit to cope.”

“Maybe you’re not the only one with the repertoire for taking care of the kid, Stark,” Natasha said quietly.

Ignoring the strangled noise that erupted from his throat, Tony put his hand out for PJ, attempting to look at the boy under his floppy curls.

“We need to get you a haircut, cutie. Hey. It’s okay,” He murmured softly, “I know it’s all so, so much for you. You’re doing so well, baby. You’ve been so, so good—you still are. It’s okay to cry. But we do want to put you in something more comfortable, okay? Can you come in here with me and Steve and Tasha and let me help you into this?”

After much coaxing, he finally got PJ to his feet and helped him into the room. Shushing him softly, Tony held his hand out again, watching as the boy shakily rested his palm on top of Tony’s.

“That’s it. I have to touch to get this shirt off, then we’ll start with bottoms, okay?” Tony instructed, “You’re safe, honeybunches.”

Tony unknotted the t-shirt and slipped it off PJ, hurrying his movements once the boy started to shiver. With quick instructions and oversight from Natasha, he managed to get the boy to cooperate with the training pants and small jeans, then the Black Widow tee and a tiny zip-up grey hoodie.

“That’s it. You can sit. Time for socks and sneakers, then you’re all good,” Tony continued to talk to PJ, soothing him as he slipped the items onto the boy and set the shoes’ velcro straps, “There you go, buddy. Why don’t you go show Tasha how good you look, huh? She likes a well-dressed man.”

Brightening up, the boy pushed himself up to his feet, his sniffling gone as he ran over to Nat. Watching him look up at her with a shy smile, Tony felt his heart lighten, a twinge of pride striking him.

“He’s a good kid,” Steve murmured, causing Tony to stand up and give him a surprised look, “He’ll need time, but I think he’ll be okay.”

“Mm. He has your genes, after all,” Tony answered carefully, turning his head to not give away the look of longing that had crept onto his face.

There was a moment of silence between them as they watched Natasha compliment PJ on his new clothes; Steve spoke first.

“Tony.”

“Not now,” He replied, already feeling anxious, “Later. Maybe after we get him to rest.”

“Alright,” Steve replied after a beat, “But I’m holding you to it.”

Tony sighed, but he tamped down the urge to bolt, instead focusing on the child currently trotting over to him. He raised an eyebrow, smirking down at PJ.

“What’s up, kiddo?” He asked.

“Me,” The boy answered, sticking his arms out.

Honestly surprised he got a verbal answer, Tony made a strange noise before getting with the program. He easily picked PJ up under his armpits, setting him on his hip before comfortably wrapping his arms around the boy. Seemingly satisfied, PJ rested his head on Tony’s shoulder, putting his hand back in his mouth to chew on his fingers. Tony cast a frantic look to Natasha, who merely glared and shook her head as if to say _you hurt him, I hurt you._

“Well, there goes working for today,” he sighed, keeping a hand on PJ’s back to make sure he didn’t fall.

“This doesn’t count as working?” Steve commented smugly, unable to hide his smirk when Tony turned to pout at him.

“No. It’s not exactly fun time bonanza, but it’s not work,” He answered, frowning up at the Captain, “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to find _my_ kid a book and we’re going to read, because that’s a thing people do with their kids, and I’m going to be a great dad, dammit.”

Not missing how drastically Steve’s face dropped, Tony held PJ a fraction closer as he turned on his heel, taking them out to the living room. Seeing as most of the Avengers had stayed to chat, they turned when they entered, causing PJ to shyly duck his head into Tony’s neck. Tony merely patted his back, ignoring the others in favor of looting through the boxes to look for goodies.

“Hey! I know this book,” He said, pulling out a copy of _Madeline_ from one box, “How ‘bout this one, kiddo? My mama used to read this to me all the time.”

PJ peeked up from Tony’s shoulder to look at the book, a quizzical expression on his face. Eventually, he nodded, but once he saw the other Avengers watching, he ducked his head back into Tony’s neck. Wrapping his arm around the boy with the book in his hand, Tony turned, hyperaware of the eyes on him. Amidst them, he found Pepper’s gaze, a bit comforted by her encouraging grin.

“This. This is weird,” Clint voiced, “Like, _really_ weird. I never thought I would live to see Tony Stark with a kid, let alone one on his _hip_.”

“To be fair, Tony’s always liked kids,” Sam pointed out from the couch, “I just didn’t think he still wanted his own genes still swimming around.”

“Gross, Wilson,” Bucky grunted, glaring when Scott laughed.

“I think we should leave Stark be. The child is content with him, so as am I,” Thor mentioned with a shrug, leaning one arm on Clint.

Bruce, Pepper and Wanda hummed in agreement, to which they all then turned their gaze back to Tony.

“What?” He asked, unaware he was bouncing PJ as he stood in place.

“…Nothing, honey. Have you talked to Rhodey?” Pepper asked, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony snorted, rolling his eyes, “Once he gets leave, he’ll come visit. He’s not all too thrilled with the name, but I think that once he meets the kid he’ll change his mind.”

PJ perked up at that, tilting his head up from Tony’s shoulder. He flicked his gaze between Tony and Pepper, eventually settling his eyes on the ginger.

“Yeah, I meant you,” Tony sighed, going over to his favorite recliner, “Alright, we’re going to sit down, okay? My old man legs are tired already and you’re squirmy with being held. Ready?”

Slowly, Tony eased them down onto the chair, letting PJ settle in his lap. The boy looked confused for a moment before attempting to hide in Tony’s shirt again. He snorted a laugh, shaking his head fondly while lightly patting the boy’s back.

“Next step is leaning the chair back. You just stay still for a sec,” He said, softly, pressing a button on the outside of the arm of the chair.

As the chair began to tilt backward, PJ looked around frantically, scared by the sudden movement. He whimpered lightly, starting to shake as fear gathered in his wide eyes.

“You’re okay, you’re okay, the chair’s just going backward. You won’t fall,” Tony quickly soothed, “The chair just lets you lay down instead of sit. I thought we could lay down while we read, yeah? In case you get tired and want to take a nap.”

PJ blinked at him, utter confusion clouding his features. The chair had stopped moving, leaving Tony reclined with the child sitting up on his lap. Looking around, PJ made a curious noise, poking the chair with a bit of defiance.

“The chair stops part way. It won’t move down anymore,” Tony explained, stuffing down the desire to scoop the boy up and show him the world he missed out on, “See? You’re safe, pumpkin pie. I won’t let you fall.”

The boy glanced at Tony and then back to the chair, idly picking at the soft leather. Tony merely watched, not wanting to push him, lest he have an episode. PJ spent a minute or two just touching and poking the chair before finally turning to Tony, eyeing him carefully. Slowly, he reached down, resting a finger on the edge of the arc reactor before looking up at Tony expectantly.

“What? What is it?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at PJ, “It’s called an arc reactor. It’s a big magnet in my chest. It keeps shrapnel from slipping down into my heart. It’s really important. And it glows.”

Tony grinned, watching PJ start to inspect the device closer. He poked a bit at the glass, seemingly testing its integrity before laying down next to it, snuggled into Tony’s chest. Keeping his fingertips over the glow, he looked at the book in Tony’s hand before looking back up, waiting.

“Oh, are we good now? Okay,” He chuckled, “I’m gonna put my hand on your back, okay? Just so you don’t roll or anything.”

Slowly, Tony put his arm around the tot, letting out a relieved breath when he didn’t fuss. With one hand, he managed to open the book, displaying it so PJ could see the pictures, despite laying sideways. He opened his mouth to start reading when he heard a small giggle, causing him to swivel his head. Seeing Clint have a hand clapped over his mouth, Tony flushed, having temporarily forgotten the others were still in the room.

“And? Something funny, Barton?” He snapped.

PJ whimpered at his tone, causing Tony to turn back, concerned.

“Oh, honey, I’m not mad, not at you,” he shushed softly, “Uncle Clint is just a meanie, that’s all. Everything’s okay.”

“ _Uncle_ Clint? Since when did that happen?”

“I am not being Uncle Bucky.”

“You’re right, you can be _Uncle Buck_.”

“I will not hesitate to throw you out the window, Wilson.”

“Guys,” Pepper sighed, her face in her hands, “Please, behave. Let’s give them space.”

“Why? I wanna see Stark be all domestic,” Clint grumbled.

“Sometimes it is best to leave when you want to stay,” Wanda answered, putting a firm hand on the archer’s bicep, “Come. We can go do some needed group training, yeah?”

“I’m down,” Scott answered with a stretch, “Lemme go call Cassie first, and I’ll meet y’all down there.”

Slowly, the Avengers dispersed, leaving Pepper standing by the side of the room as she watched Tony start to relax. Smiling softly, she padded over to the chair, running her fingers through Tony’s hair once she was close enough.

“PJ, this is Pepper, but you can call her Pep, if you want,” Tony introduced, smiling fondly up at the ginger, “Whatcha want, Pepperpot?”

“Nothing. I’m just…very glad to see you happy, Tony,” She answered quietly.

“Pep—”

A small frustrated noise erupted between them, causing both adults to look at the child. He pouted up at Pepper, his bottom lip stuck out as he semi-glared up at her. She blinked before taking her hand from Tony’s hair, sliding it into PJ’s curls. Though he didn’t relax, the pout left his face and he settled again on Tony’s chest.

“…Did he just get jealous?” Tony asked, looking between the boy and Pepper, “I did just see that, right?”

“Right,” Pepper confirmed with a giggle, taking her hand away, “Alright, I’ll leave you with your Daddy, little one. Be good.”

With one last kiss to Tony’s temple, she left, leaving the two alone in the room. Finally relaxing, PJ slipped his thumb into his mouth, sucking it as he watched Tony fumble open the book again. Once he got it opened and positioned right, he took a breath, beginning to read:

“In an old house in Paris, all covered with vines, lived twelve little girls in two straight lines. The smallest one was Madeline. See? That’s her, with the red hair.”

“Pwetty,” PJ whispered, inaudible had there been any other noise in the room.

“Yeah, pretty. Just like Aunt Nat, huh? Okay, let’s keep going—”

Tony read each page aloud to the boy, making sure he kept the book wide open so PJ could see the pictures. Sure, turning the pages with one hand was a little difficult, but he managed, making sure to do voices for each of the characters, as Maria had done when he was a boy.

“’Good night, little girls! Thank the Lord you are well! And now go to sleep,’ said Miss Clavel. And she turned out the light, and closed the door, and that’s all there is, there isn’t any more,” Tony finished with a lump in his throat.

He closed the book and set it aside before turning to PJ, smiling at the boy fast asleep on his chest. Realizing he couldn’t move, Tony sighed, but opted to let his mind wander instead of calling to JARVIS for someone to bring him work to do. Relaxing back in the chair, he closed his eyes, idly petting PJ’s soft curls as childhood memories filled his head: there, in the piano room, Maria sitting by his side at the age of four, a gentle hand on his back in encouragement as he nimbly played ‘Three Blind Mice’ from memory. He flashed forward, seeing himself at age six, curled up by Maria’s side as she read _Madeline_ to him before bedtime. Sure, he was too old for the book, but it was one of his favorites, and mama’s voice when she read Miss Clavel—

Tony’s eyes snapped open at the sound of footsteps, hurriedly reaching up to wipe the brimming tears from his eyes. He sucked in a breath, heart hammering in his chest as the figured rounded the back of the chair—

“Hey,” Steve’s voice called before the Captain’s face poked around the side of the recliner, “How is he?”

“Sleeping,” Tony replied lowly, his fingers still in PJ’s hair, “Hush.”

“Sorry,” Steve whispered, dropping his voice as he pulled over an ottoman to sit on, “I just—Tony—”

“Yes, Steve?”

“You’re frustrating me.”

“I tend to do that to you.”

“You have no idea.”

Tony sucked in a breath at that, inwardly scolding himself for letting his brain go to that place for a second. He sighed and shook his head, taking his hand from PJ’s hair to rub his temples.

“What, Steve?” He muttered, “What do you want from me?”

The Captain’s face went from annoyed to carefully blank, blue eyes flicking over Tony’s face for a moment.

“I’m not sure,” He finally answered, turning his gaze to PJ’s sleeping form, “I know I want to get to know him. Especially since he’s my kid, too.”

“Yeah—Look, I’m just trying to—Steve, you really don’t have to. You’re not obligated at _all_ to have to suddenly be a father. Hell, you’re barely what, twenty-six? You should be out living life,” Tony replied, ignoring the twist in his gut, “I can take care of him. You—you can take a get out of jail free card here. It’s okay. I mean, I understand, he’s also mine so I get it if parenthood with the least capable of the team seems like the worst idea in the world—”

Realizing Steve had reached over to carefully play with the lock of blond hair in PJ’s curls, Tony swallowed the lump in his throat, trying to determine whether or not his hesitation was from guilt or self-loathing.

“Which did you assume I don’t want: fatherhood, or you?” Steve asked, looking up from PJ to stare at Tony.

Tony gaped, but before he could answer, the boy between them whimpered, his eyes scrunched shut. He started to shake, almost convulsing by the time Tony got the chair into the upright position.

“PJ? Hey, hey baby, wake up, it’s okay, you’re having a bad dream,” Tony coaxed, sliding them both down onto the floor in case the boy had an attack, “Honey? C’mon, you can wake up, I got you, it’s okay—”

He shook PJ’s shoulder lightly, but at the motion, he jerked away from Tony’s hold, thrashing in his sleep as the nightmare held onto him. Just as suddenly, he sat straight up and screamed; Tony had to throw an arm over Steve’s chest to keep the blond from surging forward. In front of them, PJ panted for a moment before bursting into tears, wailing as he drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around himself.

“Oh, sweetheart, it’s okay, you’re safe,” Tony whispered, “PJ, I need you to look up, kiddo, okay? Look at me, honeybunches.”

Slowly, he stretched out his open palm, waiting patiently, despite having to watch the boy sob his heart out in front of him. It took a few minutes for PJ’s cries to dwindle, but once he looked up, he stuck his hand out to rest on Tony’s palm.

“That’s it. Such a good boy, PJ. A good, sweet boy. You’re doing so well,” Tony praised, feeling embarrassment prickle the hairs on the back of his neck, “I’m right here. Nothing’s going to hurt you, okay? They can’t hurt you anymore. You’re safe here. It’s okay, pumpkin pie. We got you. I promise.”

Feeling Steve tense next to him at the plural pronoun, Tony merely kept his focus on PJ, intently watching in case he needed anything. Once the sniffling subsided to occasional hiccups, Tony cleared his throat, causing the boy to pick his head up from his knees. His small face was blotchy, dried tear tracks staining his latte skin.

“Hi there,” Tony soothed, “Are you feeling any b—”

PJ stood on trembling legs and threw himself into Tony’s chest, one of his tiny hands pressed against the arc reactor. Before he could fall over from the shifting weight, Steve’s hand came up to his back, holding him in place as he gently wrapped his arms around the boy. Steve easily curled himself around them both, creating a makeshift cocoon for them.

“Shh, it’s okay, you’re okay, we got you,” Tony soothed worriedly, his heart hammering in his chest as PJ sobbed into his shoulder, “You’re alright, it was just a nightmare, it can’t hurt you anymore, little one. We’ll protect you. We’ll _all_ protect you.”


	5. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Freakouts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd. Comments & Kudos appreciated.

Needless to say, once PJ calmed down, there was a sudden awkwardness in the room that not even Tony, the master of escaping awkward situations, could escape. Steve’s arms were wrapped too tightly around him and it’s not like he was about to leave the warmth of his own volition, either. Sure, he was being a little greedy—it wasn’t often the soldier allowed this type of touch, let alone offer it first to others. Realizing that Steve was starting to pull back, Tony took a quick breath, focusing himself on the armful of upset child in his possession.

“Hey. Hey you. Can you come out of there? Please?” He cooed to PJ, gently tapping the boy’s shoulder, “You’re going to get snot all over me, and as much as I enjoy holding you, the snot is a deal breaker. Will you let us clean up your face a bit? Huh?”

Coughing a bit, PJ looked up, his eyes bloodshot and cheeks blotchy from his fit. Shushing him softly, Tony bounced him on his hip as he carried him over to the forgotten box of tissues. With a heavy grunt, he bent at his knees to pick up the box, ignoring Steve’s chuckle at how loudly his knees cracked.

“I’m old, Rogers, leave me be,” He grumbled, letting PJ pluck a tissue from the box to clean off his own face.

“Tony, you’re not even forty,” Steve answered patiently, an amused smile on his face, “Everyone’s knees crack. You just looked less…graceful, than usual.”

“Great,” Tony answered blandly, leaning slightly over a nearby trashcan to let PJ drop the used tissue in, “Good to know that instead of being concerned over the kid, you’re watching how graceful I am when balancing thirty pounds on my hips.”

Satisfied that he shocked Steve into silence, Tony carried PJ out of the room and into his new bedroom. He thought about his sentence for only a millisecond, only to chalk the strangeness of it up to Steve’s inane observational skills. With a tiny huff, Tony set PJ on his feet once they were in the bedroom, looking around at the half-finished project.

“You wanna help me decorate?” He asked, looking down at the child, “Like, put stuff up? Wait, hell, you don’t know what any of this is. You were an actual tube baby for, like, a year. Okay, Stark, get it together—”

Tony scrubbed his face with his hands, taking a deep breath to try and stave off his long-waiting panic attack. Looking up, he glanced from PJ’s confused and concerned face to the bed, an idea nearly causing a lightbulb to appear over his head.

“Okay. We’ll make the bed first. Then you can just chill out while I finish setting everything else up,” he decided, putting his hands on his hips as he looked down at the boy, “Sound good? Good.”

Tony stuck his hand out at the boy, wiggling his fingers until PJ giggled, gently resting his hand on top of Tony’s, as usual. Together they started to go through boxes until Tony crowed in triumph, pulling out a boy’s twin bed set.

“Hey, robots, too. Robots are cool,” He grinned, showing it to PJ, “What d’ya think? Yes?”

Blinking at the bag, PJ tilted his head, glancing between it and Tony in confusion. With a choked-back noise of disbelief, Tony quickly unzipped the bag, letting PJ inspect the contents. Of course, being a curious child, he carefully pulled out each individual piece of the set, eyes wide as he felt the softness of the sheets and comforter.

“These—” Tony pointed to the sheet set, “—Go on there.”

He pointed to the mattress on the bedframe, watching the realization dawn on PJ’s face. With as much determination as a two-year-old could manage, he dragged the sheet set over and tossed it with a tiny ‘hup’ on top of the mattress. Proud, he turned with a wide smile to Tony, eyes shining brightly.

“Yeah, exactly. Good job, kiddo,” Tony praised, grinning, “You’re so smart. You’ll probably be as smart as me someday.”

Feeling a strong domestic urge tug at his heart, Tony kissed the palm of his hand and held it down to PJ, nearly fainting as the boy did the same and put his palm on top of Tony’s hand.

“That was _too_ cute.”

Nearly jumping out of his skin, Tony cursed under his breath, whirling around to see Sam standing in the doorway, a smug smile stretched across his face.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt,” he drawled, holding up his hands defensively, “I just have a very pouty super soldier on my hands and I figured the easiest way to ask what’s wrong is to go to you first.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you.”

“Why?”

Sam rolled his eyes, shaking his head slowly.

“Cap came to check on you and half-pint, then suddenly he’s stolen _my_ mocha chocolate chip and is watching Golden Girls re-runs on TV. So, I’ll ask again, what happened?” He grunted.

“Nothing! I read PJ a book, we napped, Steve came over and we talked, then the little one had a nightmare, we comforted him, and that’s all,” Tony answered, narrowing his eyes.

“You talked?”

“…Yeah.”

“About what?”

“…Stuff. Things. Stuff and things. Look, Wilson, what’s it to ya, anyway?” Tony continued stubbornly, “Am I my Captain’s keeper?”

“Your Captain?” Sam answered in amusement, “Now there’s an interesting possessive pronoun.”

Taking a careful breath, Tony steeled himself against the bait in favor of looking down at PJ with a warm smile.

“If you’ll excuse us, we have a bed to finish making,” He answered, changing the subject, “If you’re that upset over your mocha chocolate chip, Clint has some in the freezer he thinks I don’t know about under the sink in his private bathroom.”

Sam merely sighed and shook his head, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“If you happen to think of anything that could maybe cheer him up, let us know,” he muttered, clearly unamused, “It’s not often he lets us see him this upset.”

Once Sam had turned on his heel and left, Tony sat down on the mattress, the fight gone out of him for the moment. PJ put his hands on Tony’s knee, brown and blue concern staring up at him with wide eyes. With a sad smile, Tony murmured soft reassurances to him, carefully brushing his floppy curls behind his ear without spooking him.

“I’m okay, sweet thing. Daddy’s just got some issues to work out,” he sighed, propping his elbow on his knee and his chin in his hand.

PJ made a confused noise, tugging on Tony’s jeans as he said, “Daddy?”

And he had thought he’d nearly had a heart attack when PJ _laughed_.

Tony swore he heard his neck crack since he turned his head so quickly. He must have looked like an idiot, gaping and all, but a grin quickly filled his face and lit up his eyes, not unlike when he suddenly was graced with a brilliant idea.

“Yeah, kid, that’s me. Your old man,” he said back, giggling as the boy beamed up at him, “You can keep calling me that, by the way. Might as well, right?”

Standing up from the bed with a renewed sense of self, Tony grabbed up the bedding and, with PJ’s clumsy help, started to put the sheets on the bed. Though it took a few attempts at making it—mostly due to PJ climbing up when it wasn’t finished and creasing the sheets—they finally got the bed pieced together, finishing it by tossing various plush toys up onto the bed.

“There. All soft and boy-friendly,” Tony declared, “ _Now_ you can get up on it, eager mcbeaver.”

PJ scrambled up onto the bed, shoes long been forgotten since Tony forbid them on the nice bedding. He giggled as he started to jump around, only to wheeze and collapse down onto the bed with more breathy giggles. Turning up to look at Tony, he smiled softly, eyes blinking slowly before they slipped shut.

“Hah. Tired already?” Tony teased gently.

No reply.

“PJ?”

He tried to shake him, but no response came from the oddly still body. Tony tried calling his name a few more times, but no response came from PJ. Terror rippling through his muscles, he quickly reached out to check the boy’s pulse, weak but fluttering under his fingertips.

“JARVIS, get Bruce up here, _emergency_ ,” He barked, keeping his fingers on PJ’s pulse, “And keep SHIELD medics on standby.”

It didn’t take long before the pounding of footsteps came down the hall and the frantic scientist careened into the room, a stethoscope around his neck. Wordlessly, Tony moved aside for Bruce to sit, letting him get to work.

“We just finished making the bed and he started jumping on it, then laid down and just passed out for no reason,” Tony explained in one breath, hovering over Bruce’s shoulder as worry built up in his gut, “He wouldn’t wake up when I shook him—”

Bruce waved him quiet, putting his stethoscope in as he moved the metal disk around PJ’s now exposed chest. After a minute or two, he sat back and pulled the stethoscope out of his ears, sighing softly.

“His heart’s fine. I think he passed out because he’s so weak, Tony,” he explained, letting Tony re-zip the boy’s hoodie back up, “It wouldn’t be surprising if he’s not ready for activity like that yet. He’s not only been through a lot mentally, but physically as well. He needs time…and patience. He’s going to have copious amounts of energy, but you need to _really_ watch him and make sure he’s pacing himself until we’re sure he’s strong enough.”

Having sat and gathered PJ into his lap while Bruce talked, Tony nodded, cradling the boy to his chest, like he had done in the compound. Looking down at the boy, he gently tucked his loose curls behind his ears.

“We should still take him down to medical,” Bruce advised, watching them both with a keen eye, “I want a CAT scan on him, anyway. Plus, they can give us a better judgment on how to proceed with making sure he gets his strength back and how to continue to help him to cope. From what Steve was saying, he had a pretty bad nightmare, yes?”

Tony looked up at that, mouth set into a firm line in annoyance.

“Yes, he did, but I was expecting it,” He answered carefully, “He’s a kid who’s been through rough shit. Of _course_ he’s going to have nightmares.”

At Bruce’s unimpressed look, Tony merely sighed and rolled his eyes, standing anyway with PJ in his arms.

“We’ll go to medical. But someone needs to bring a bag of stuff down for him. I’m not going to be leaving him alone anytime soon,” He continued.

“Don’t worry. We all can handle that,” Bruce waved the thought away, putting a hand on Tony’s back as they walked out of the room, “I happened to be in the main living room when JARVIS’ call came, so I need to go tell them everything’s okay. Think you can handle yourself?”

“Yeah,” Tony huffed, nodding, “I got this. Gimmie a shout if something happens.”

Parting ways, Tony made his way down to the elevator, shifting PJ slightly so the boy was leaning against his chest. Still extremely concerned, Tony groused at how the slow the elevator was, mildly cursing at it as it opened onto the medical wing. As requested, a few nurses with a hospital bed were standing by, ready to help get PJ settled. As they whisked the boy away, a nurse sat Tony down with a packet of forms, reassuring him that he could go see PJ once the paperwork was done.

“Fucking dumb,” he grunted to himself as his pen flew over the packets, pushing them into the arms of the nearest nurse once he was done.

Finally able to go to PJ, Tony faltered as he saw the kid, small and frail in the large hospital bed. Seeing that they had put a cannula on him, he let out a sigh, almost collapsing into a chair next to the bed.

“Mr. Stark?”

Looking up at the nurse, Tony acknowledged her with a grunt.

“Peter—ah, PJ, seems to be in better health than what’s described in his file,” She began, flicking through her own pages on a clipboard, “Albeit, he’s extremely malnourished and underweight for his age, but he’s been responsive and open to you. We believe that he may have passed out because, for one, he’s very weak and should not be doing any sort of strenuous activity, and two, his mind may have recognized that he’s in a safe place and allowed his body to go into a sort of mini coma to allow him to heal. For whatever blessed reason, he either trusts you or recognizes that he can trust you. It’s a very good first step.”

“But?” Tony prompted, sensing a second half to the statement.

She hesitated, her concerned eyes betraying her confidence.

“He has definitely been through physical torture,” she continued softly, turning her gaze to PJ, “There’s evidence to show that he most likely has several improperly healed fractures and breaks on his ribs. Though we’re waiting for the CAT scan machine to be prepped, I would bet that it’ll show us exactly that. However, there may be more damage than that to other bones, or possibly his organs. We’ll just have to wait and see. I want you to be aware of the worst case scenario here.”

Scrubbing a hand over his goatee, Tony merely stared at the boy, the child’s mouth open slightly as he puffed breaths in sleep. He stuck his hand out toward the nurse, wiggling his fingers impatiently.

“Relatively speaking, there is good news. There is no sign of invasive torture like we tend to see with most children in these cases,” The nurse said, placing the clipboard on the bed for Tony to pick up and look at, “He’ll still need some forms of therapy, though. There’s no doubt he has been through a lot, and it will take him a long time to recover…but, if there’s anyone who can help this boy, it’s definitely you, Mr. Stark.”

At that, Tony looked up, brow raised as he said, “And it’s definitely me, because…?”

“Despite your inability to follow your _own_ advice, you are very good at taking care of others,” she answered, taking her clipboard back with a smile, “I should be back in an hour or so to take him down for the scan. You’re welcome to stay here.”

Tony watched as she left, momentarily stunned. A bit of guilt nagged at his brain as he immediately thought about Steve, but he shoved it down, knowing he needed to focus on the situation at hand. Carefully, he reached over to take PJ’s small hand in his own, careful of the IV in his hand. He finally realized how fragile the small child was: not only was he weak to the point of barely being able to function like a normal child, but his abused psyche no doubt affected him in ways that even Tony had trouble understanding. It was all he could do for the moment, to sit and wait and _hope_.

It seemed like forever until a knock came from the door; expecting Bruce, Tony looked up, only to see a few white coats.

“The scan room is ready,” one of them announced, “We’re going to take him down. You’re welcome to come with us.”

With a nod, Tony gently let go of PJ and stood, letting the orderlies take the rolling bed as he trailed behind. Somewhere, a small thought in his head reminded him that _this, this is what Pepper and Rhodey have seen, they’ve stood here, seen you go into these types of machines, praying and hoping that the damage isn’t as bad as what the news made it look like_.

He squashed the rabbit trail, opting instead to stand in front of the glass with his arms crossed, carefully watching PJ’s small body be transferred to the CAT bed and slowly moved into the machine. What felt like days was only minutes, but Tony found himself having to remind his lungs to inflate and deflate so he didn’t pass out and create more problems.

_He’s in good hands. And look, it’s moving back out anyway, so no need to worry. Wait till you get the actual scans in your hands before you decide to have a panic attack in the middle of the fucking SHIELD medical wing._

Sucking in a breath, Tony steadied himself and waited for the white coats to finish talking amongst themselves before striding into the room. He waited for PJ to be returned to his bed and wheeled out of the room, then turned his attention to the SHIELD agents.

“Report,” He demanded.

“What nurse Shelly reported to your earlier has been confirmed,” one of the haughtier doctors replied, motioning to the scans put up on the light-boards, “His—”

“I know basic medicine, Doc, no need to spare me the details,” Tony interrupted, shouldering through them to look at the scans.

For a moment, he felt nothing.

Thankfully, PJ’s arms and legs looked fairly normal: no signs of old or new breaks, but perhaps the bones were a bit on the thin side. However, when focusing on the boy’s ribcage, Tony felt each old break in his own chest.

“He has endured hundreds of microfractures,” a different doctor began, pointing out small smudges on the scan, “We believe that these were able to heal somewhat properly due to the serum in his system. The larger breaks, though—”

At least five of the ribs had massive knots of bone in the middle of them, as if someone had stuck the two pieces of ribs into a marshmallow to hold them together.

“Will it hurt him?” Tony interrupted, still focused on the scan.

“It—It may hinder his growth. Other than that, no. If anything, it’s strengthened that area. He’ll just be very sensitive about the area.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Tony grunted, realizing he’d splayed a hand over his reactor, “Will he need meds? What about organs?”

“As far as we can tell, the serum has been healing him and will continue to do so,” the nurse—Shelly—replied softly, “He just needs to take it easy until he can build up more bone mass and some muscular strength. Regular physical therapy should help, as well as a good diet. If anything comes up or seems irregular, bring him right back down. We can have a bed open for him at all times for a few months, just in case.”

“Good. Do it. Now, give me a moment.”

He waited for the room to clear before collapsing into a nearby chair, hand over his mouth. Staring into the distance, Tony choked back a cry, tears that had been stinging his eyes for the past few minutes now budding up and falling down his cheeks. He wiped them away with the back of his hand, pinching the bridge of his nose to force himself to take a deep breath, in and out.

_He's just a kid. He’s just a kid, goddammit, if we had known, if we had been there sooner—_

_You can’t blame yourself for this. You had no idea. No one, not even Fury, knew._

_I could have done something._

Forcing himself out of the inner debate, Tony stood from the chair and looked around, catching his face in a dark computer monitor. He quickly fixed himself up to try and hide the freshly-cried look, only to give up and run a hand through his hair. Now sufficiently rumpled, but not at _all_ in the way he preferred, Tony exited the room and walked back down to PJ’s room, his boots clacking on the linoleum. He ignored the eyes that seemed to follow him, too concentrated on returning to PJ’s side to give a damn. As he opened the door to the suite, he stopped in his tracks, an all too familiar backside facing him, stretching out cotton and denim in a way that probably should be illegal.

“Rogers,” Tony acknowledged, moving into the room before closing the door with a soft _click_ , “What are you doing here?”

“Bruce sent me down with stuff,” Steve replied, barely motioning to a bag that rested by the far wall, “He told me to, quote, work out whatever the hell is going on, end-quote.”

Finally, Steve turned to look at him, and Tony inwardly cursed as he saw the shift in Steve’s emotions from his Captain’s determination to pure Steve concern.

“I’m fine,” Tony interrupted, putting his hands up as he moved back to the chair on the opposite side of PJ’s bed, “Just…I’m fine.”

“Right,” Steve answered dryly.

But he didn’t push.

Rather, he stood there, looming over PJ and Tony both, to the point that Tony glared up at him and stood from the chair.

“Sit, tall person, you’re making me uneasy,” he grumbled, opting to sit on PJ’s bed instead.

He heard Steve move behind him, the familiar screech of metal against linoleum signaling the blond moving closer. Tony pretended he didn’t hear it, opting instead to pick up PJ’s hand again, cradling it between both of his own. It was silent for a few moments, only the sound of the heart monitor beeping filling the room. Tony was perfectly happy to stay quiet, for once; the monitor was enough sound to keep his attention from becoming too introspective and eventually self-loathing. But, of course, stupid _Rogers_ had to open his pretty mouth—

“Bruce was—I have a what?”

“Nothing,” Tony said quickly, cursing his inner monologue from escaping.

“You have an _inner monologue_ —”

“It’s called a conscious, maybe you should get one,” he snapped back, too goddamn tired to deal with it for the moment, “If you’re going to make comments, you are _more_ than welcome to leave.”

There was a sigh.

“I can’t.”

“You can’t?”

“No.”

Looking back at Steve, Tony realized how positively _sick_ the man looked. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and even he, the Scotch-Irish boy, looked pale.

“You alright?” Tony asked, brow furrowing in concern, “Do you need a doc? You look…unwell.”

“Fuck,” Steve cursed under his breath, immediately covering his mouth with his hand.

“Okay, sailor, what’s wrong?” Tony pushed, turning his body to give the other more attention, “All of a sudden you’ve been acting weird. First, it’s the stumbled awkward greetings, then the constantly trying to help when I don’t need help, then you looked at me like a _rotisserie chicken_ at the compound—”

“A what?”

“Not important. Then, all of a sudden you can actually stand to be in the same room as me again once this little one comes along, and—fuck, Steve, you go and be cryptic and shit and now you _can’t leave_? What kind of bull _is_ this? I’m a polyglot and even _I_ can’t fucking understand what you’re saying half of the time.”

“Tony, you think I don’t want to be around you?” Steve asked, his jaw tightening as his eyes flashed.

“Yes, you idiot. Every time I walk in the room, you immediately leave or find some excuse so you _can_ leave. You don’t sit next to me at movie nights anymore, you don’t come down to the lab to draw, hell, you’ll only spar with me if Nat forces you to,” Tony spat out.

It was quiet for a moment, until Steve’s shoulders began to shake. He laughed, bending over at the waist to put his head in his hands as he shook. Tony merely stared at him, dumbfounded.

“I’m an idiot,” Steve finally wheezed, clapping his right hand to his left pec as if to steady himself, “Oh, god, Tony, no. I’m so sorry, I didn’t—it didn’t even occur to me that you’d think I didn’t want to be around you. God, no, I love being around you. I don’t know how anyone wouldn’t want to be.”

Tony hesitated for a moment, months of data from Steve’s actions completely blown to bits by the blonde’s admission. He made a confused noise, but dismissed it with a shake of his head. He moved to ask another question, but a rustle of sheets beside him had them both turn to PJ. The boy had shifted, and with a tiny groan, his eyes fluttered open, unfocused but bright.

“Hi, you,” Tony immediately soothed, dropping the conversation in favor of giving PJ his attention, “We had to come downstairs for a bit. You gave me quite a scare there. You’re okay now, though. Just got to get clearance to leave and then we can go back up, okay?”

PJ blinked, but seemed to understand with a small nod of his head. Looking past Tony, he saw Steve, making a confused noise.

“Steve’s here,” Tony explained, hearing the blond move from the chair to the other side of the bed, “He brought you a change of clothes and stuff in case we needed it, but I guess not.”

“I brought you something else, too,” Steve interrupted softly, a small smile on his face, “I thought you might like one. I had one when I was around your age, so—”

From the bag, Steve pulled out a soft-looking elephant, a big red bow tied around its neck. With a loud gasp, PJ’s eyes went wide as he looked at it, gaping a little. He went to reach for it, only to stop and look over at his hand on Tony’s palm, nibbling his bottom lip.

“Go on, it’s okay,” Tony encouraged, despite giving Steve a side-eye.

PJ immediately zipped up and grabbed onto the fluffy elephant, holding it to his chest tightly with both arms. He snuggled it with a squeal, looking up with starry eyes at Steve. Steve merely put his hand out, to which PJ smacked his hand on top, giggling softly.

“Daddy,” he announced, looking over at Tony with a grin.

Tony felt his eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, at which PJ immediately started to back down, curling in on himself with shame and taking his hand from Steve.

“No, oh no sweetheart, you’re okay, you just continue to be full of surprises,” Tony said quickly, trying to school his face, “If you use pet names, you can only use it for one person so we know who you’re talking about.”

“Daddy,” PJ repeated, pointing at Tony before moving to Steve, “…Daddy?”

“Daddy,” Tony answered back, pointing at himself before racking his brain and pointing to Steve, “…uh, Papa?”

Steve shrugged, then nodded.

“Papa works,” he answered, looking back to PJ with wet eyes, “How does that sound?”

“Papa,” PJ acquiesced, nodding.

With a happy hum, he laid back down with the elephant, picking at its fur as he drifted off back to sleep. Once he was sure PJ was out again, Tony sighed, his shoulders drooping.

“Jesus, I’m too old,” He grunted, shaking his head.

“You’re saying that to me, Tony,” Steve reminded gently, putting a hand on his shoulder, “You’re stressed. It’s pretty normal when you suddenly have a superpowered toddler on your hands.”

“You say that like it’s an everyday occurrence.”

“Well, no, but I know what it’s like to suddenly have my world change.”

Tony tensed under Steve’s hand, still unsure of the Captain’s intentions. He shrugged it off as he stood, attempting to play it off coolly.

“I’m going to talk to the nurse about discharge,” he said evenly, steeling himself to not look at Steve as he changed the subject, “I’ll return.”

Forcing himself forward, Tony exited the room and closed the door behind him, choosing that moment to realize how hard his heart was thumping in his chest. Sensing the panic that was rising in his chest, he scanned the area before ducking into the room over, quietly closing and locking the door so he was alone. Knowing that SHIELD liked to soundproof things, Tony opened up a call, sitting down heavily on the empty bed.

“Tony? Is everything alright?” Bruce’s calming voice came through the hologram, the scientist’s worried expression flickering at him, “Is something wrong? How is PJ?”

“That’s me, the kid’s had a number done to him, and I feel like—fuck, a literal elephant just stepped on my heart and is sending me into an unneeded panic,” Tony grunted, scrubbing his hands over his face, “I can’t believe you sent Steve down here. Really? Out of everyone?”

Bruce sighed, an apologetic expression not quite meeting his eyes.

“Well, technically it was Sam and James’ idea, not mine. I was merely the message relay-er since apparently, they had words with Steve earlier and are both in the doghouse,” He said, shrugging, “He was only bringing you guys the stuff in case PJ needed an overnight. Why? Did he say something?”

“Yeah, he said he doesn’t _fucking_ hate me,” Tony snapped, standing and walking through the hologram to start to pace around the room, “That doesn’t make any fucking sense—we were cool after New York, we were even cool when I _graciously_ let the raccoon in and got him all the bells and whistles of therapy and reconditioning and—I have done _everything_ I could think of to keep in this man’s good graces, and what happens? He just up and decides to not fucking talk to me unless it’s a mission or training. No more drawing in the shop, no more personal blanket during movie nights…hell, he hasn’t even been eating that specialty butter pecan ice cream I found that he really loves. What the fuck is this? Did he think I wouldn’t notice? I notice everything, he knows this, he knows I would notice, he _wanted_ me to notice—”

“I really think this is a conversation for Pepper,” Bruce tried to interrupt, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Tony, as much as I love you and appreciate your genius, your innate ability to hyper-focus on little things amazes me too much for me to be able to help you.”

Tony paused at that, turning on his Versace heel to pout at Bruce’s hologram.

“Okay, yeah, so what if I tend to overanalyze little things? That’s how I got to where I am!” He sputtered, putting his hands on his hips, “It’s not—there are too many things here to just all be _coincidences_ , Brucie bear. But then, then he just goes and tells me that I’m wrong and that _everyone_ enjoys being around me, which, let’s face it, they do—”

“ _Tony_ ,” Bruce sighed, rolling his eyes, “Steve does not hate you. He doesn’t. If he hated you, he’d kick you off a building, or at least not live in your _house_. He…respects you.”

“He respects me,” Tony repeated flatly.

“Bad choice. He likes you, Tony, he does. Look, Pepper is _much_ better at this—”

“Yeah, but Pepper will wheedle at me to talk to him,” he whined, flopping down onto the bed again, “Can’t he just, y’know, hate me like a normal person?”

Bruce laughed at that, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“No, Tony,” he teased, “No one can hate you like a normal person since you aren’t a normal person to begin with.”

“If I knew you weren’t going to turn into a big green angry jelly bean, I’d tell you to fuck off.”

“That hurts.”

“Yup.”

Tony laid there in silence for a moment, staring at the ceiling as he repeated Steve’s words over and over in his head. He pursed his lips, and at Bruce’s hum of curiosity, spoke his mind.

“PJ called him Daddy.”

There was a sputtered curse, causing Tony to laugh as he looked over at Bruce’s hologram.

“Yep. But I told him pet names can only be for one person, so now I’m Daddy, and Steve’s Papa,” He continued, watching a myriad of expressions cross Bruce’s face, “You _cannot_ tell Barton. He will have a hay day. I need to tell Pepper, but I feel like the more I think about it, the more likely it is that I’m just going to spontaneously combust.”

Bruce’s mouth was open for a moment, a stunned expression on his face.

“…When did he call you Daddy?” he finally asked.

“When we made up his bed. He just said it when I was sort of moping after Steve started being Steve while we were talking and saying cryptic shit and then the kid panicked and so to escape Steve talking I took PJ to his bedroom,” Tony babbled, sitting up and picking at the skin around his nails, “That was right before he started to jump and passed out. So. Fairly new development.”

He paused, hesitant.

“This is all fairly new,” he admitted, running a shaky hand through his usually perfectly coiffed hair, “God, Bruce, I’m drowning, and I know the instant that I sit down, stop moving, and just _realize_ what I’ve gotten myself into—”

“Okay, you’re okay,” Bruce interrupted again, “I know. It’s fast. It’s _very_ fast. But that’s how you kind of operate, so we’re trying to stay flexible, here. You need to keep calm for PJ, though. You only have to last until bedtime. Then you can freak out.”

“He barely managed a five-minute nap because he had a nightmare! He’s not going to sleep!” Tony hissed, throwing his hands up, “I’m going to be up all night holding him because he can’t sleep and—”

“Yes, Tony. You will. Isn’t that what you wanted Pepper to do?” Bruce answered calmly, narrowing his eyes a bit, “You’ll be okay, Tony. You always figure these things out. Now. I just got PJ’s slides, so I’m going to go look at that. Go talk to Steve.”

The hologram wavered for a second before Bruce cut the connection, leaving Tony alone in the dark room. Unaware he’d been hyperventilating for most of the conversation, he backed up to a wall and slid down, resting on his haunches as he grounded himself. He took careful, slow breaths, counting the seconds like he was taught until his heart rate was somewhat near normal. Once he felt like he could stand without passing out, Tony slowly picked himself up and dusted off his clothes, straightening himself out with a grunt. He exited the room only to stop in his tracks, seeing Steve sitting in a waiting chair across the hall with PJ sitting in a chair next to him. The boy had the elephant clutched tightly to his chest, thumb in his mouth as he leaned his head on Steve’s arm. Quickly, he noticed Tony, eyes going wide before he slid out of the chair, awkwardly running over to look up at him.

“Hi, you. Sorry it took me so long. I was talking to Uncle Bruce,” Tony explained, crouching down to PJ’s level, “I’m guessing the nurses said it was okay for you to go back up. Why don’t we get you some juice and finish making up your room, huh?”

PJ tilted his head before nodding, then looked back over his shoulder at Steve and pointed.

“What? Steve—ah, Papa? You want him to come along?” Tony fumbled for the right word, the endearment heavy, but not awkward, on his tongue, “Why don’t you go ask, hm?”

Standing up, he watched PJ run back to Steve, the elephant’s big ears flopping as he skidded to a stop at Steve’s feet. Tony walked over, shouldering the overnight bag as PJ stared expectantly at Steve.

“…What?” the Captain asked, raising an eyebrow, “Can’t read your mind, kid. What’s up?”

“Room,” PJ said, his voice small but his tone demanding.

Steve looked over at Tony for a second before turning his attention back to the child, shrugging.

“What about room?” He asked.

“Come.”

“Come…to the room?”

“Yes.”

Tony knew he was probably gaping, but _this is the first conversation we’ve managed to get out of him, holy SHIT, of course he talks to Steve, it’s Steve—_

“Tony,” the Captain cut through his thoughts, waving a hand in front of his face, “You with us?”

“Yep,” Tony blurted, side-stepping around Steve to head to the elevator, “C’mon, kiddo, let’s go get you juice and do stuff. Yeah?”

He smacked the up button probably harder than he needed to, but he was still reeling from trying to comprehend and file away the past hour. Once the elevator doors opened, he made sure PJ got in before stepping in himself, all too aware of being in an enclosed space with Steve. Feeling more panic settle in his chest, Tony swallowed nervously, attempting to keep his nausea at bay. After a second, a small tug on his jeans had him look down; PJ was grasping tightly to his pant leg, looking up at him with a curious face.

“Yes?” He drawled, plastering a smile on his face, “What’s up, pumpkin pie?”

PJ didn’t answer, opting instead to scrunch up his face and turn back to look at the elevator doors as they opened onto the main floor. He kept his hold on Tony’s pantleg, forcing the latter to walk a little awkwardly. Together, they headed to the kitchen, where Tony found a washed and dried sippy cup sitting out on the counter, praises be to Natasha for leaving it where he could find it. He snagged it before heading to the refrigerator to grab Scott’s clearly labeled apple juice, quickly pouring it into the cup and twisting the lid on. Handing it to PJ, Tony waited for the kid to let go of his pants before returning the juice to the fridge and herding the child out toward his new room.

Steve kept a few paces behind them, hands shoved in his pockets. Tony could feel his eyes on his back and shivered under the Captain’s watchful gaze, unable to make direct eye contact with him. Approaching the room, PJ stopped, then backed up a few steps. Tony raised an eyebrow, then heard the commotion; he rolled his eyes, crouching back down to the boy’s height.

“You stay here with St— _Papa_ , okay? I’ll go get the ruffians out of your space,” he told the boy before getting back up to head into the room.

Surprisingly, he found most of the other Avengers all pitching in to put PJ’s room together. Noticing him first, Clint waved in a hello, made sure Sam was still steady putting up string lights, then headed over.

“Hey, where’s pipsqueak? We’re about done in here,” the archer grinned, hands on his hips, “Looks cool, right? Thor went to Asgard for a bit. Something about furs. He should be back soon…Bruce is in the lab, and I think Pepper headed back up to her office.”

“He’s out in the hallway. Noise and mass amounts of people bother him,” Tony explained, shrugging, “We can go wait in the living room for you all to be done. It looks good, though. Homey.”

“It’s got that feminine touch,” Sam called, shrieking as Wanda tried to cuff his arm.

“Oh my god. I’ll let you guys be. We’ll go to the living room,” Tony snorted, shaking his head.

“Sounds good, Tinman.”

Tony clapped Clint on the shoulder before heading back out, finding PJ glaring up at a very awkward-looking Steve with the sippy cup cast down on the floor. The boy turned at his footsteps, his face blotchy with what looked like tears running down his cheeks.

“Is he _crying_? Jesus, Rogers, I leave for one goddamn minute, what did you do?” He sighed, hurrying over to PJ’s side, “Hey, baby, what’s wrong, huh? What’re the tears for?”

“Up!” The boy demanded, stomping his foot.

_Well, he sure is more comfortable with being vocal about what he wants. Progress, I guess._

“God, you can pick him up, Rogers,” Tony grunted, quickly scooping PJ up into his arms and grabbing up the cup, only to hand it to Steve, “Sorry, pumpkin pie. Apparently, someone has really weak arms and can’t pick up a big, strong boy like you.”

Smiling in relief at the boy’s giggle, Tony quickly wiped the last of tears away as he carried him out to the living room. With a grunt, he sat down on the big couch, letting PJ curl up in his lap with the elephant still attached to his hip. Unsurprisingly, Steve collapsed down onto the couch next to them, placing the cup on a side table and sighing, either in tiredness or frustration. Seeing the Captain, PJ glared, immediately shifting to press his face into Tony’s chest and turn his back to Steve.

“Oh, hey, none of that, being grumpy doesn’t solve problems,” Tony snorted, gently patting the boy’s back, “Only one of us gets to be grumpy, and that’s me, at all times.”

PJ leaned back to pout up at Tony, who merely giggled.

“You are very cute when you do that,” he admitted, seeing a bit of himself in the expression, “You look like a kicked puppy. Not that _that’s_ cute, but…whatever.”

“Good save,” Steve mumbled from beside them, his head leaning back over the couch with his eye closed.

“We’re going to have words later when there aren’t small ears,” Tony grumbled, shaking his head, “Or I’m going to make Barnes and Wilson have words with you.”

“Great,” Steve sighed, not offering anything else.

It was quiet for a bit, the only sound being PJ’s occasional hum as he started to poke around Tony’s reactor through his shirt. Unfortunately, the silence gave Tony time to really think, which is why he tried to avoid silence at all times. After a bit, he shifted to face Steve, pretending to not notice PJ’s curious hand stroking over his goatee. Glancing over the blond’s mostly relaxed form, Tony let his mind wander.

 _For what it’s worth, the kid really does like him,_ he thought, feeling the stuffed elephant press up against his chest as PJ tried to get closer, _it wouldn’t really be so bad to have Rogers around as a second parental unit. He may be pretty reckless himself in the field, but he cares for the safety of the others…maybe a kid would be good for him. Someone to come home to._

Tony finally turned his attention down to PJ once he realized the boy had stopped poking.

“What? Have I been thoroughly investigated now?” he snorted.

“Sad,” the boy answered, tilting his head, “Why?”

Hearing Steve shift, Tony blanched, recovering quickly as he shook his head.

“Not sad. Thinking,” he corrected, standing with an ‘oomph,’ “I do that a lot.”

PJ hummed, but didn’t answer, choosing instead to lean out of Tony’s arms toward Steve. He made a soft noise, to which the Captain finally opened an eye, glancing up at the pouting child.

“We going? Alright, I’m comin’,” He sighed, standing with a grunt, “You still want your drink?”

PJ nodded, happily taking the sippy cup from Steve. He put it up to his lips and took a long swig as the trio made their way back to the bedroom, now vacant of any Avengers. Wriggling in Tony’s arms, PJ bounced down onto his bed, only to stare at the new decorations covering his room: twinkling lights hung on the ceiling with a large net full of stuffed animals, various Avengers posters littered the walls, and even a framed photo of Steve and Tony from the Holiday party of the year after the Battle of New York rested on the nightstand. Taking note of the boy’s staring, Tony sat down next to him on the bed, slowly waving a hand in front of his face to get his attention without frightening him.

“It’s a lot, huh?” He said quietly, flicking his glance back and forth between PJ’s eyes, “I know it’s a lot. I’m—ah, _we’re_ going to do our best to try and keep you as safe and happy as we possibly can. There might be a lot of bumps in the road, with nightmares and getting you caught up to speed with English and Maths and stuff, but we’re going to do it. You’re safe here. You don’t have to be afraid anymore, _bambino_. It’ll…it’ll take some time, and it might not even be this month that you get comfortable, but one day you’ll wake up and you won’t feel so scared anymore. We’re kind of experts on the whole new-world scenario, so.”

Tony tried to go for a comforting smile, but PJ merely sniffled, reaching up to rub at his eyes. Before he could react, Steve had already squatted down in front of the boy, reaching up slowly to put a hand on his knee.

“It’s alright to cry, son. We’ll match your pace and do what we can,” He said softly, a Captain’s determination hidden behind his reassurance, “You take all the time you need. We’re here for you. No matter what that looks like.”

Watching Steve interact with PJ, Tony felt a warmth blossom through his chest, reaching so that the tips of his fingers tingled with electricity. The fire behind the ice blue stare caught him off guard enough that it took a few snaps for Tony to realize that Steve was attempting to get his attention.

“…Hm? I’m here, I’m here, just spaced,” he managed, forcing himself to concentrate back on PJ, “You okay, kiddo? Huh?”

PJ looked up at Tony with red-rimmed eyes, and after a second, shook his head.

“Go,” he mumbled, sniffling.

“Oh. Okay. C’mon, then. Your bathroom is this door back here, okay?”

Tony helped PJ off the bed and pointed at a door on the back wall, walking over with the boy to show him. Turning on the light, Tony smiled, crouching down to PJ’s level.

“Now look, we got you step stools and even a little butt cushion, so you won’t fall in,” He explained, grinning at the boy’s soft giggle, “If you need help, St—Papa and I will be right outside, okay?”

At the boy’s nod, Tony stood and went back over to Steve, smiling as he saw the blond staring at the photo on PJ’s nightstand.

“Hey,” he said quietly, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Hey,” Steve said back, raising an eyebrow with a fond smile on his lips, “He alright?”

“Yeah. Bathroom break,” Tony answered, leaning against the wall with his shoulder, “He’s pretty much potty trained. At least, he knows to ask when he has to go.”

“That’s good. Also terrifying, considered he was trained by HYDRA,” Steve murmured, keeping his voice low, “Have you talked to him any about—”

Tony shook his head, giving Steve a pointed look.

“Later,” he whispered, hearing the faucet start, “Nat can babysit for an hour so we can…talk.”

Not missing the flush on the Captain’s face, Tony quickly turned and pretended not to notice, smiling as PJ trotted out of the bathroom, immediately scooping up his elephant that had been left on the bed. Hugging it close, he looked up at Tony and Steve, then held his arms up. Tony glanced over at Steve, then nudged him.

“Go on. You won’t hurt him,” he encouraged.

Steve made that awkward I-really-don’t-want-to-do-this face, leaning down to gently pick PJ up by his armpits. Seeing that Steve legitimately _wasn’t sure what to do_ , Tony helped place the child on his hip, showing the Captain where to place his arms to keep the boy upright. Sated, PJ leaned his head on Steve’s shoulder, eyes fluttering closed as he held the elephant tight between them. Steve’s face quickly morphed from hesitant okay-ness to abject horror, looking at Tony with wide, helpless eyes.

“It’s okay, he’s okay, he’s just tired.” Tony soothed, knowing that if Steve freaked out, he would _also_ start to freak, “He had a big day, yeah? Why don’t you sit—”

He carefully moved Steve over to the rocking chair, helping the Captain sit and shift PJ so he was sitting with the boy curled up against him, seemingly unbothered by the movement. Finding himself tired as well, Tony sat down heavily on the chair’s ottoman, watching as Steve slowly became accustomed to the new charge in his lap.

“You alright?” he eventually asked, propping his elbow on his thigh and his hand on his cheek, “You seem a little less like you want to toss him off of you and scrub your skin raw.”

Steve laughed a little at that, rocking back as he looked down at PJ. Reaching up a steady hand, he brushed the child’s curls behind his ear, humming at the patch of blond.

“I never was good with kids. Even during touring with the USO,” He replied, a distant look glazing over his eyes, “Holding babies got awkward and tiring. They screamed a lot, and with the enhanced hearing and all…”

“Yeah. Oh, yeah. Babies aren’t…well…it depends,” Tony said, “Personally, I like babies. Quiet ones. Loud, colicky babies can be a nuisance, but it’s really not their fault. You have to be especially careful with them, that’s all. And patient.”

Steve stared at him, long enough to make him uncomfortable.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Clearly, that’s why you’re looking at me like I suddenly morphed into Barton.”

Steve rolled his eyes, shaking his head.

“I just…for someone who doesn’t have kids, you know a lot about them, and how to care for them,” He said, shrugging, “I mean, you’ve been attached to him since we got him, so I know you haven’t exactly had the time to read up on it or anything.”

Tony finally took his turn to stare back, taking his hand off his cheek to wring his hands between his knees.

_Well, if we’re going whole hog with the parenting thing here, I might as well go for it. Fuck it._

“You’re right. I haven’t. I read…before,” He explained carefully, “When Pepper and I were together, we sort of…had a scare. First and last time barebacking. I kind of freaked out. I was young, _really_ young, I didn’t think I was ready to have a kid, and with all of Afghanistan still fresh in my mind, I wasn’t mentally ready, either. That really spurred the first time we split. So, to win her back, I read every highly rated parenting manual I could find. Then, once I fully came to terms with the whole anxiety-and-depression shit, I read as much as I could on abused and traumatized kids to see how my past would affect my future.”

Letting Steve take it in for a moment, Tony finally looked him in the eye, surprised to see gentleness.

“So. After that, we talked about it, and we thought we wanted kids,” Tony continued, gauging Steve’s reaction, “Y’know, she’d be the hardworking mom, I’d step down and just do R&D and by then I was _supposed_ to have given up being Iron Man.”

“And that didn’t happen.”

“Right.”

Tony sighed, nibbling his bottom lip as he started again.

“Once she found I was still tinkering with the suit, she called it quits for good. Said my lifestyle was too dangerous, especially if I wanted a new line of tiny Starks running around. ‘Villains aren’t good playmates for babies,’ she said. She’s not wrong. So, to fill that void, I started pouring money from the Maria Stark foundation into orphanages. Then, when I had…have…panic attacks, I’d go and hold the babies in the middle of the night. They always need to be held. Even the ones that cry a lot. _Especially_ the ones that cry a lot.”

It was silent for a long time before Steve spoke.

“So you’re _not_ dating Ms. Potts?” he asked.

“ _That’s_ what you get from that?” Tony said, biting back a laugh, “Smooth, Rogers.”

Steve flushed, but didn’t answer, instead turning his attention back to PJ, who had started to snuffle quietly as he clutched at the Captain’s shirt. Reaching over, Tony carefully disentangled the boy’s fingers, letting PJ clutch at his hand instead. Smiling softly, the two sat in companionable silence, watching the child rest.

“I have one question,” Steve asked quietly, voice barely a whisper.

Tony looked up at him and nodded his go-ahead.

“What does _bambino_ mean?”

A little embarrassed, Tony put a hand behind his neck, chuckling awkwardly.

“It’s Italian. It means young child or babe,” he explained, looking away, “My mom used to call me that when I was younger.”

Steve nodded, an amused smile finally coming to his lips.

“I would have liked to meet her. From what I hear, she was much like my own mother. Strong. Beautiful. A hell of a cook.”

“You got that right,” Tony laughed, glad for the respite from uncomfortable memories, “Mom would have taken to you. She always had a thing for blonds. And so did Howard, I mean, he _loved_ you.”

“Does it run in the family?”

Shocked by himself, Steve’s eyes widened, his mouth open slightly as he realized what he had said. Tony stared at him, a hundred thoughts running through his mind.

_Oh my god, I need to tell Bruce. And Rhodey. Holy fuck, okay, maybe he doesn’t want to kill me with his hands, just his—no, don’t think about that._

“Hold up,” Tony interrupted himself, turning to Steve with an incredulous look, “Is _this_ why you’ve been avoiding me? Not because you want to kill me and kick me off the team—which, let’s face it, probably isn’t a bad idea since I’m the absolute _worst_ —but because you have a _crush_ on me? So this whole time, all the not sitting with me anymore, the avoided conversations, the stilted voice—it was all because you have a crush and didn’t, what, want to make me uncomfortable? Is that it?”

Steve faltered, face morphing into a multitude of emotions, but not offering any verbal response. Instead, he pulled PJ away from his chest and handed him off to Tony, attempting not to look at either of them. From the jolted move, PJ woke up startled, looking up at Tony wide-eyed before screaming, ripping himself away from the brunet’s hold. He fell onto the floor and scrabbled backward, bumping against the bed frame with a soft cry. Tony quickly stood and held fast to Steve’s arm, wrenching him back with a snarl.

“If you so much as step out that door this _instant_ , I will personally eject you from the top of the tower,” he growled, “You are going to sit here and help me with _our child_ that you have _upset_. We will continue this conversation _later._ Understand?”

Beyond freaked out at this point, Steve only nodded, an aura of smallness and inferiority radiating off of him. Tony shoved the Captain down to sit on the ottoman, glaring at him before turning a gentle face to PJ.

“Hey. Hey, sweetheart, you’re alright,” he tried, getting down on his knees to try and seem less threatening, “I know that was pretty scary, huh? Getting woken up like that? I’m sorry that happened, pumpkin.”

Still trying to scoot away, PJ settled with huddling up against the bedframe, bawling and screaming each time Tony tried to reach his hand out to comfort him. Minutes turned to two hours as Tony kept trying; having PJ tire himself out was out of the question, as it seemed that super serum stamina also applied to panic attacks.

Wonderful.

“This isn’t getting anywhere,” Tony finally admitted, his heart breaking to watch the child be so afraid, “We’ll be here all night like this.”

Steve, who had somehow managed to stay completely still and mute, finally moved, getting down on the floor to sit on his legs.

“PJ?” he croaked, voice unnaturally wet, “Can you look at me, big guy?”

Surprised to hear the emotion in Steve’s voice, Tony felt his neck click as he whipped his head around to stare at the Captain. PJ must have recognized the change in voice as well, as he picked up his head from his elephant, sniffling horribly.

“That’s it. I’m so, _so_ sorry I hurt you, son,” Steve whispered, shoulders slumping, “I—I didn’t mean to, and I know you don’t know that since you’ve been hurt so much, and I know an apology won’t _fix_ anything, but I know I should anyway. You deserve so much better, my love. Can you forgive me?”

_My love? What in the actual hell—_

Tony watched in complete surprise as Steve reached out with a shaky hand, only inching it closer to PJ once he didn’t flinch away. After a few moments, PJ reached his own hand back out, laying it ever so carefully on Steve’s large palm. The Captain finally choked, hanging his head to try and swallow the noise.

“It’s okay, Steve,” Tony finally murmured, putting a hand on the other’s back to rub comforting circles, “You freaked. It’s okay. He forgives you. Look.”

Steve lifted his head again, watching as PJ shifted closer. Awkwardly, the child stood and toddled over completely, wrapping his arms around Steve’s neck.

“Papa sad,” PJ said, his own small voice worn out, “No.”

“No? No sad?” Steve answered with a wet laugh, delicately putting a hand on the boy’s back, “Okay. No sad for Papa.”

Letting Steve have his moment, Tony pulled away, resting against PJ’s bed. He carefully observed the two, noting how the tension in the Captain’s shoulders dissipated the longer PJ hugged him. Eventually, they pulled apart, both seeming a little perkier and a lot less upset.

“Okay, you guys. As much as sitting on the floor is fun for my old back, I need to get up,” Tony grunted, standing with a small whine, “Right. So, it’s getting late, and a certain someone needs to eat before we have some sort of bath and bed routine. Okay? Steve? You think you can feed him while I get this room ready for him for bed? He likes Clint’s cheerios and there should be apples or carrots somewhere in the fridge.”

“Is that okay with you, champ?” Steve asked as he stood, looking down at PJ.

The boy responded by tapping Steve’s hand, starting to walk away. Tony watched as the two left, an unfamiliar warmth filling his chest. He sat down on PJ’s bed, picking up the tear-and-snot-stained elephant to clean off with a tissue. Sighing softly, he looked at the plush animal, tilting his head.

“My life is never not going to be weird, is it?” he asked rhetorically.

“No, it’s not.”

Looking up, Tony grinned, watching Natasha pad into the room in her pajamas and sit down on the bed next to him.

“How’s he holding up?” She asked, nodding at the elephant.

“PJ’s alright. He had a fit since Steve pawned him onto me while _he_ freaked out, so…that’s been about the past two hours,” Tony murmured, “Steve’s...not doing great. I kinda finally realized he’s been avoiding me ‘cause he likes me, so there’s that development. Ah, other than that, pretty good.”

“And you?”

“About as well as you’d expect.”

Natasha nodded, resting her head on Tony’s shoulder with a sigh. She brought her legs up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them with a hum.

“Talking to Steve in the morning would be good,” she said, “You guys need a bit to think before you hash out whatever relationship you guys want to have. And you’ll need to do it without the kid. I’ll take him for the shift after breakfast.”

“Thank you,” Tony murmured, wrapping an arm around her back as he rested his head on top of her own, “I considered asking Sam, but I don’t want the kid coming back asking to fly every ten seconds. I’d rather he know how to kill a man with his thumbnail.”

“Mm. He’d be okay with any of us, and you know it,” Natasha replied, rolling her eyes, “I’ll leave you to the nightly stuff, then. If you need anything, I think Wanda is still awake. Thor will be back tomorrow afternoon. Apparently, he’s bringing gifts.”

Tony winced as she got up from the bed, remembering the horse head he had received that last time Thor brought gifts.

“Make Bruce meet him, then. Just…just to check it out,” he decided.

Nodding, Natasha said her goodnight before scurrying away, leaving Tony alone once more. Looking around the room, he finally pushed himself to his feet, looting the room for PJ’s pajamas and new training pants. He set the clothes on the counter in the bathroom, turning to look out at the room with a hum. Taking in the child’s things, spread out to maximize coziness and homeliness, Tony could only find one thought in his mind:

_I could get used to this._


	6. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony is a good leader, Steve is a bad influence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd. Comments and encouragements are appreciated. I follow the tag #avengersasssemble on tumblr.com.

_Or, I could perpetually detest this since Rogers has no common sense when it comes to childcare._

Upon Steve’s return with PJ, Tony smacked a palm to his forehead, seeing the child drenched in some liquid with flecks of pink across his lips and face.

“He likes strawberry ice cream,” Steve said sheepishly, to which PJ nodded and beamed, “And we sort of had an accident with juice.”

_I guess the look on both of their faces was worth it, but if the sugar keeps this child up all night, he can deal with it._

Tony sighed loudly and ushered PJ into the bathroom, rolling his eyes at Steve’s awkward I-don’t-know-what-to-do-in-this-situation shuffle in the bedroom.

“Sit in front of the doorway, but keep the actual door open,” Tony instructed.

Steve’s eyes bugged, but he did as he was told.

“Why, exactly?” he asked, grunting as he sat cross-legged.

“In case an armful of wet, naked child escapes from me,” Tony replied, grinning at the color draining from Steve’s face, “Looks like you’re about to be catching for once in your life, Rogers.”

Turning, he nearly missed Steve’s color roaring back in full force, even darkening the tips of his ears to a rosy pink. Smirking in victory, Tony traipsed back into the bathroom, finding PJ fiddling with his wet hoodie as he shifted from foot to foot. He crouched down in front of the boy, smiling warmly at him.

“Hey. You’re probably all sticky, and we never really did clean you off much when we found you,” Tony explained, “I’m going to guess you hate water though, so I’m going to give you a sponge bath, okay? I have to do this for myself too. I hate baths. And showers.”

PJ tilted his head, but didn’t seem to complain, so Tony took that as a go-ahead. He first demonstrated for the boy to put his hands over his ears to help dull the noise of the bath filling. Once the water was at a good height and steaming hot, Tony helped to undress the child and had him stand on a bathmat.

“Okay, so this is a washcloth,” he explained, showing the small rag to the boy, “I’m going to put it in the water and get it soapy, then clean you off. You might get a little cold, but it’ll go away once we’re done. Alright?”

Already starting to shiver, PJ looked warily at the water, fear evident in his eyes. Slowly, Tony put his hand out, waiting for a few beats until the child shakily placed his own hand on top. Taking that as an okay, he dipped the cloth in the water and awkwardly lathered it up with one hand before squeezing out the extra water. Carefully, he took the cloth to PJ’s skin, whispering comforting words as he cleaned the grime and stickiness from his small form.

“You’re alright. Almost done, okay? You’ve been so good, I bet Ste—I bet Papa will even read you a bedtime story,” Tony soothed, finishing up the child’s legs and feet, “Okay, just your hair. Let’s get—”

He grunted as he grabbed a clean towel, wrapping PJ up tightly to help with his shivers.

“—that, now, can you sit? This is going to be a little tricky since you have long hair,” he explained.

Once PJ was settled, Tony made sure the cloth was soaked before carefully scrubbing the boy’s curls by wrapping them up in the cloth and twisting it back and forth. After a few goes, PJ’s hair was decently cleaned, but it still left the trickiest part.

“Alright. The last thing is your face, sweet cheeks. If you have an attack, it’s okay, I’m right here and Papa’s right outside,” Tony said calmly, re-soaking the cloth and twisting out as much water as possible, “I’m going to make this as quick as possible, then you’ll be ready for bed.”

PJ looked absolutely frightened, but he patted Tony’s hand anyway, visibly trying to blink away tears in his eyes. Feeling his heart break a little more, Tony hurriedly wiped PJ’s face, immediately putting the cloth down once he was done to use the towel to dry him off.

“You did so good, you did so good honey, you’re so brave,” He whispered, shushing the boy as he went about getting the child dried and into his training pants and pajamas, “Let’s get you tucked into a warm bed with your nice elephant, yeah? Sleep will do you well.”

Standing, Tony grunted at how his back cracked, rolling his eyes at Steve’s familiar laughter in the next room. He followed PJ out to the bedroom, smirking at Steve’s sharp breath.

“What? You didn’t think J would get him Cap pajamas, did you?” He teased, helping PJ up onto the bed.

“Not quite,” Steve admitted, standing up from the floor as he eyed the child’s red, white and blue pajamas, “Now, I heard you say I’m supposed to read a bedtime story?”

Looking up from tucking PJ in, Tony quirked an eyebrow, then nodded.

“Yeah. Go pick a book,” he said, jerking his head toward the small bookshelf in the room.

Turning back to the kid, Tony tucked the elephant in with PJ before settling the covers around them and sitting on the edge of the bed.

“You doing okay?” He asked, wringing his hands in his lap, “I mean, of course you’re not, this is probably weird and strange and if I were you, I’d be extremely anxious and—”

“Tony.”

Steve sat down on the bed next to him, worry evident in his unusually clear eyes.

“I think you being scared will scare him more,” the Captain said calmly, attempting to be a solid presence, “Think you can keep it in just a little more? We can go…talk, once he’s asleep.”

They both looked over at PJ, who was currently picking at the sheets with curious vigor. Once he noticed the adults watching him, he hurriedly took his hands away, to which Tony shushed him and merely pulled the sheets up more.

“You’re alright, small one,” he soothed, eyeing the book in Steve’s hands.

_If You Give a Mouse a Cookie? Seriously? What a nerd._

“Papa’s going to read to you, then he’ll tuck you in for sleep, okay? We’ll leave the string lights on for you and there’s a light on in the bathroom,” Tony explained, knowing that the child probably didn’t understand what he was saying, “If you need _anything_ , just call out for me. I’m right next door and can be over in a jiffy, okay? Everything’s okay now, honey. I know you’re in a weirdo place with weirdo people you probably still don’t trust too well, but we’ll take care of you. We’ll keep you safe, I promise.”

Ignoring the nearly unbearable squeeze of anxiety in his chest, Tony leaned down to press a brief kiss to PJ’s temple before standing, giving the boy one last look as he turned to head over to his own room. Closing the door behind him, he threw his mind into getting-ready-for-bed mode, getting lost in his routine to avoid thinking. Once he was in his silk pajamas and standing in his room, Tony closed his eyes, feeling his heart beating erratically behind his reactor. Slowly, he backed up to the wall and slid down to the floor, drawing up his knees to his chest.

_In for four, hold for eight, out for seven._

Counting the seconds, Tony tried to ignore the pounding in his head as he regulated his breathing, all too aware of how close he was to hyperventilating. The anxiety from the past twenty-four hours was starting to catch up to him, tightening his heart and shortening his already quick breaths. He sunk his hands into his own hair, scraping blunt nails against his scalp as he fisted his hair in both hands, distantly aware that he was starting to rock back and forth.

“…ony? _Tony?_ ”

Feeling hands on his shoulders, Tony instinctively ducked away, scrabbling away until his back hit the side of his wardrobe. Feeling dizzy, he panted heavily, his hand going up to cover his reactor.

“Easy, easy,” Steve’s soft voice drifted through his static haze, “It’s just me, it’s _Steve_. I’m not going to hurt you, or touch you. Can you look up?”

Forcing himself to raise his head, Tony barely registered Steve crouched in front of him, his hand halfway between them as if he had stopped himself from reaching out. Tony blinked erratically, hands clutching at the plush carpet as he tried to force words out of his mouth.

“Easy there, tiger. Just focus on getting oxygen to the brain. You need to _breathe_ , Tony,” Steve interrupted him, using his I’m-the-Captain-so-do-as-I-say voice, “In and out, Iron Man. Can you do that for me?”

Perhaps it was the familiar tone Steve generally reserved for battle—or simply the man’s presence—that made Tony gulp down a deep breath, forcing himself to hold it in his lungs for as long as he could before slowly breathing out. Hearing how shaky the breath was, Tony closed his eyes, attempting another deep breath, and another, until the air passing his lips was steady. Finding himself curled up tight, he slowly forced his shoulders to drop and his legs to fall, loosening his muscles.

“Hey,” Steve said gently, causing Tony to crack open his suspiciously wet eyes, “You with me, Iron Man? Or do you need a minute?”

 “I’m fine,” Tony managed weakly, using the wardrobe to steady himself as he made to stand, “Just peachy, Cappuccino. Just needed to sit for a minute—”

Steve’s eyes narrowed at that, but he didn’t comment, which Tony was thankful for. He stumbled over to his bed, sitting down heavily on the plush comforter as he put his hand up under his own shirt to cover his reactor, feeling the machine whir and his heart thump under his fingertips. Still catching his breath, Tony hung his head, turning his face away when he felt the bed dip as Steve sat next to him.

“If you say anything, I will end you,” he muttered, letting his hand drop from under his shirt.

“I just want to make sure you’re alright,” Steve answered evenly, “It’s nothing to be ashamed—”

“I’m not.”

“Well, you were—”

“I’m _not_ , Rogers, so drop it.”

Thankful for the moment of silence, Tony reached up to rub his temples, closing his eyes against an oncoming headache; he groaned softly, burying his head in his hands.

“Why are you here, Steve?” He finally asked, deciding to poke the elephant in the room.

“I figured you’d want to know that he went down alright. Conked out before I even got halfway through the book,” the Captain answered, voice a bit amused, “He snores, too. Not badly, but little, ah, sniffles, I guess.”

Tony looked up at that, turning a flat stare to the blond.

“Sniffles,” he repeated.

“Yeah.”

“Was he cold?”

“No. No shivering or anything. I’m pretty sure it was just snoring in a tiny body. It was actually kind of cute.”

Tony raised an eyebrow at Steve’s smile, rolling his eyes despite his gratefulness for the change in topic.

“You should go see,” the Captain encouraged, “Then head to the living room. Team meeting.”

He moved to clap a hand on Tony’s shoulder, but paused, only to gently lay his hand down and squeeze softly. Once he was up and gone, Tony fell back on his bed and splayed out his arms, closing his eyes against the persistent, itchy thrum of anxiety that crawled under his skin.

“Alright, Stark, up and at ‘em,” He grunted after a minute, forcing himself up.

Standing with a huff, Tony trudged over to PJ’s room, unable to help the tiny smile once he saw that the door had been left open. Peeking in, his smile grew, seeing PJ curled up to his elephant, snuffling in his sleep. Comforted that the boy was at least getting some rest, Tony left to join the others in the living room; he paused upon walking in, realizing that everyone was in attendance, including T’Challa and Vision, both lounging on the couch with Wanda as the group poured over some packets of papers.

“What’s going on?” Tony asked, a bit bewildered as Bruce approached him with his own packet, “News on HYDRA?”

“No. These are the files Natasha recovered,” the scientist answered, “Steve decided we should all read them to get caught up.”

“All?”

Tony glanced over Bruce’s shoulder, eyeing Clint before flicking his gaze back.

“Are we sure this is a good idea?” he asked quietly, taking Bruce aside, “There was some…sensitive content. Not that they can’t handle it, but—”

“Steve, Nat, and I thought it would be best if everyone was on the same page,” the scientist explained, nodding, “We went over the content, and of course it’s awful, but having a better understanding of the lengths HYDRA is willing to go to…”

Tony nodded back, looking down at the packet in his hands; he already knew the content inside and out, too damaging to even attempt to scrub from his psyche. Looking back up to Clint, he saw the usually steady archer’s hands shake, and he knew it was enough.

“Alright everyone, packets down,” he called out, taking charge as he stepped into the living room, “Yes, HYDRA is fucked up. We knew that. Now we know that they are willing to go to even higher levels of fucked up to achieve their ends. So, what’re we doing about it?”

“Dude, I have no idea,” Scott answered, relieved to toss his packet onto the floor, “You’d think the bad guys would have _some_ sort of morals, but I guess not.”

“This is troublesome, for sure,” T’Challa commented, looking more focused than usual, “An army of even _more_ advanced super soldiers could prove worrisome.”

“Ya tellin’ me. Stevie and I should be the only freaks runnin’ around,” Bucky snorted, “It was hard ‘nough for you guys t’take _me_ down. But an army? We already know that HYDRA’s got the Winter Soldier project stuff. They’ll just zap ‘em all and that’ll be that.”

There was silence as the realization settled across the room; glances were exchanged, and before Steve could speak, Tony stepped up onto the coffee table.

“Alright, we need teams. Wanda, Vis, I want you two and Scott to go back to the compound we already went through. Vis, I want you to see if you can get any electronic records, or maybe find out where the escaped agents fled to. Bucky, you, Sam, and Natasha start intel. Pull out the stops, see if you can find where this weed started. Bruce, you help them with detailing components for the actual hardware HYDRA would have needed for this, so they can track it. T’Challa, go to Wakanda and see what your sources know. Though HYDRA’s dealings in vibranium mostly dealt with Cap, even the smallest bug about the current whereabouts of HYDRA operatives could be helpful.”

“And me?” Clint asked, raising his hand.

“You and Steve are going to be here with me, running satellite. Plus, I heard you’re good with kids,” Tony continued, a smile on his lips, “So you’re on babysitting duty.”

Clint sighed loudly, scrunching up his nose as the others laughed.

“And I?” Thor said next, leaning up from the wall he’d propped himself against, “I’m not certain that any Asgardian intel will be helpful.”

“Not for now, point break. Go to the compound. You’ve already been and know your way around,” Tony decided, scratching at his goatee, “Is that everyone? Yes? Okay. Natty, dear, please tell good ol’ Cyclops what’s been going on. As much as I loathe to admit it, SHIELD may have some men on the ground that know things that we should know. But only divulge on a need to know.”

“Is this alright with you, Steve?” Natasha asked, turning to look at the unusually quiet Captain.

Steve glanced around the room and nodded, shrugging his shoulders.

“Sounds good to me. We can also do interviews here of HYDRA agents we’ve already captured from the compound,” He answered, “Besides, it’s best for now if I stay here. Our biggest concern seems to trust me, and I don’t want to set back our progress if I’m not here and he asks for me.”

There was a murmur of agreement, and with a nod from Natasha, the group began to collect into their teams and split, leaving Tony with Steve and Clint in the living room. Looking at the various papers still scattered, Tony grumbled under his breath about running a bed and breakfast, picking up the loose sheets.

“So, who told you I’m good with kids?” Clint piped up, twirling an arrow between two fingers as he watched Tony scuttle around.

“You did. You’re essentially a large child, so I figured it would work,” Tony answered, setting the papers down on the coffee table.

Tony laughed at Clint’s pout, smirking as he moved to the kitchen.

“Don’t hate me ‘cause I’m right!” he called over his shoulder, digging through a cabinet for a protein bar.

Finding his favorite, Tony quickly scarfed down the food, humming to himself as he set up a new pot of coffee. Just as he sat himself down on the kitchen counter, JARVIS came over the intercom.

“Sir, the child seems to be in distress in his sleep. Shall I wake him?”

“Nah, J. I got it. Thank you,” Tony sighed, scrubbing his face.

“Do you want me to get him?”

Peeking between his fingers, Tony raised an eyebrow, regarding the Captain for a moment.

“You can come too, if you’d like. But I can handle him,” He said slowly, expecting a fight, “Nightmares aren’t exactly uncommon in this household.”

Steve tilted his head, a flash of unidentifiable emotion flickering over his face for only a second before he nodded.

“Go on. I’ll bring your coffee. Black, right?”

“…Right.”

Tony stared at Steve for a moment before hopping off the counter, nearly jogging down to PJ’s room to get away from the situation. Not that it was necessarily _awkward_ , but now that he was questioning if Steve actually returned his feelings, he needed a little space to try and force his brain to slow down and attempt to organize past interactions to look for signs that he missed.

_Oh boy, am I screwed._

Dashing Steve from his head, Tony heard PJ before he ever arrived at the boy’s door; hurrying up his pace, he nearly flung the door open, seeing the child writhing in twisted pain, eyes shut tight as small whimpers escaped his mouth.

“Oh, baby, oh honey, it’s okay, c’mon kid, wake up,” Tony begged, going to try and shake PJ out of the nightmare, “I’m right here, it’s okay, everything’s okay—”

Looking helplessly down at the boy, Tony kept trying to wake him, wondering what nightmare could be holding onto the boy so tight.

_“He can’t hear us, right?”_

_“I don’t think so. Tube’s about four inches of glass thick, and the water should dampen our voices.”_

_Tracking the two shapes in front of him, PJ stared out from his liquid housing, shivering from the water temperature; it was another test, to see how much cold he could withstand before he started to die. He’d be fine with it if he died and it was over._

_He never died._

_Today was especially bad; though tracking days was difficult, PJ knew that after the third visit from the green guys, he was taken down to the bad room, where they beat him until his chest felt real funny and he hurt so badly that he wanted to cry, but if he cried he knew he’d only be hit more._

_Bringing himself back to the moment, PJ tried to ignore the flaring pain in his body, focusing on one of the green guy’s lips to try and understand what he was saying._

_“Why are we doing this again?” Green guy one asked._

_Green guy one was the nicer of his caretakers. He brought scraps of paper for him to read, taught him colors and shapes, and given what he as doing, really was trying to be helpful. If PJ was lucky, sometimes green guy one would bring him nice food that made him feel warm._

_“Because we’re trying to see what percentage of Steve Rogers’ serum is in him,” Green guy two answered, turning to glare at the other lackey, “Don’t you read the files?”_

_“Not this, specifically. Why would we even want a bunch of Rogers’ offspring? They won’t have his training,” Green guy one continued, making faces behind the others’ back, “Isn’t that his whole gig? That he’s smart?”_

_“No, that would be Tony Stark, which is why this creature has both sets of DNA,” two said, his tone bored, “If he passes all these tests, we’ll simply use him as the gen-zero, and use his combined DNA to make more clones.”_

_Green guy one’s face contorted into some sort of bad emotion that PJ couldn’t pick out, but he still got chills down his back._

_“So he’s just a guinea pig, then? A blood bank?”_

_“Essentially, yes. And with the way his tests have been going, he’s going to do quite nicely.”_

_“They’re not tests, and you know that. You let them beat him—”_

_“That’s the point. If he can withstand his ribs shattering and re-healing with little to no additional medicinal help, then he’s a perfect candidate for the project.”_

_PJ kept his gaze straight ahead, not quite understanding green guy two’s words, but from the look on the nicer guy, he should be very, very afraid. Feeling the cold start to seep into his bones, he watched as the two men leave, only to have his friend glance back over his shoulder to look at him as he drifted off into darkness._

_“PETER!”_

Tony was nearly inconsolable as he frantically yelled, his arms held back by Steve to keep from shaking the boy any more. He watched as PJ’s eyes finally snapped open, consciousness and fear evident on his small face. His tiny body was shivering, despite the mountains of blankets covering him. Turning his head, PJ made eye contact with Tony, only to burst into howling tears, scrambling back until he hit the wall.

“Oh, honey, PJ, Peter, it’s me, you’re safe,” Tony begged, taking a step closer, “It was just a nightmare, they can’t get you anymore, sweet boy. I promise you’re safe, we took you from that awful place—Steve, let _go_. Please?”

Having been fairly mute for the whole ordeal, Steve made a gruff noise and let go of Tony’s arms, watching as the engineer crept to the edge of the bed. He picked up the elephant, shushing the child as he slowly offered the toy as a sign of peace. Despite the boy’s continued wails, he seemed to allow Tony to pick him up, elephant and all, holding him close to his chest.

“That’s it, you’re okay, I got you. Maybe St—maybe Papa will even come with us and help keep you toasty warm, okay?” Tony soothed, making a face at Steve’s hesitant look, “You’re okay, honey. I got you.”

Babbling on with his soothing phrases, Tony made his way over to PJ’s dresser, carefully opening one of the drawers to pull out a new Avengers’ diaper. Realizing what Tony was doing, Steve became more perplexed, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room.

“Hey, y’know, why don’t we get you cleaned up first. I bet you’re uncomfortable like this,” Tony said aloud, looking over at Steve, “Papa’s gonna go get Uncle Clint to help clean up in here while I get you all ready for bed, okay? No need to be upset.”

Jerking his head, Tony stared as Steve got the message, nodding and practically sprinting from the room. Tony rolled his eyes, but he kept up his soothing talk to PJ, bouncing a bit to try and help his cries.

“Hey, hey, remember what I said about snot? It’s a deal breaker, kiddo. These jammies will not hold up under your nose,” He sighed against PJ’s cheek, taking the child into the bathroom, “That’s okay though. We’ll get you all cleaned up and into a nice, toasty bed with mister elephant and we’ll keep those bad dreams away, okay?”

Having set the boy down on the floor, Tony made quick work of getting PJ cleaned up and changed, awarding JARVIS a few brownie points for thinking ahead on the training pants front. Once PJ—and the elephant—were clean enough, Tony scooped them both back up, nabbing the tissue box to take with them.

“Shhh, darling, you’re _alright_ , I’ve got you,” he soothed, his heart aching at how positively upset the boy was, “Look, Papa and Uncle Clint already changed your sheets, and now Papa’s gonna come with us for some warm cuddles. Cuddles are really, really manly, you know. They also can solve any problem _ever_. It’s a universal variable. Every problem always equals cuddles.”

Glaring over at Clint’s shit-eating grin, Tony merely turned his gaze to Steve, sighing as he realized the situation he was about to put himself in.

_He can just put on his star-spangled tights and get over himself for one night_ , Tony thought, hearing Steve’s footfalls behind him as he walked down to his own bedroom.

Pushing open the door, he padded over to the bed, shushing PJ as he settled the boy under the sheets.

“J, turn the heat up a little, will you? I don’t want him getting any sort of cold.”

“Of course, Sir.”

Moving to the closet, Tony quickly set to grabbing a few blankets, laying them out on the bed for extra warmth. He set the box of tissues on his nightstand, and before he could talk himself out of it, slid into the bed to let PJ curl up to him.

“Okay, Rogers, shoes and belt off, and into the bed. Or, I have extra pajamas in the closet,” Tony said, staring at the nervous blond, “You fought in World War Two. Thor knows you can get into a bed with another man and your _kid_.”

“Jesus, Tony, you don’t have to put it like that,” Steve grumbled, kicking off his sneakers and undoing his belt, “I never protested.”

“You were going to. Now hush, human furnace.”

Grinning at Steve’s frown, Tony settled down in his bed, holding PJ close until Steve could crawl in and settle. Carefully, he moved the boy to be cradled between them, smiling once PJ’s sniffles started to subside.

“That’s it, darling. You’re okay. We’ve got you,” he murmured, stroking the back of his hand down the babe’s cheek, “We’re right here. You’re safe and warm, we got you.”

Still hiccupping slightly from the outburst, PJ pressed his face into Tony’s touch, seeming to seek out the comfort rather than his usual stance of shying away from it. Tony was careful to take even breaths, not wanting to scare the child again; he waited until PJ’s breaths evened out and he was snoring quietly for him to sigh in relief.

“I thought he was never going to go back to sleep,” Steve admitted quietly, an odd expression on his face as he glanced between Tony and the babe, “You’re good with him. It’s incredible.”

“He tired himself out,” Tony whispered back, rolling his eyes, “Not me, Cap. Just being a comfort.”

He watched Steve’s lips tighten into a line, but the other didn’t make a comment. Suddenly feeling a bit awkward after lying there for nearly a half hour, Tony moved to climb back out of the bed, intent on moving PJ back to his bed. At the slight bit of movement, the babe’s eyes snapped open and he immediately started to whimper, sitting up as he looked at Tony.

“Shoot,” the engineer sighed, “Well, that didn’t work for long. Alright. C’mon you, let’s go for a walk.”

Scooping PJ up into his arms, Tony grumbled as he slipped on his moccasin slippers, raising an eyebrow at Steve still in his bed.

“You’re welcome to stay there if you want, Cappuccino, I’ll be back soon,” he snorted, smirking as he watched the Captain’s face flush, even in the dark room, “We’ll just take a quick once around the Tower.”

With PJ clutching around his neck and the elephant dangling over his back, Tony padded down to his personal elevator, taking the lift to his garage. He carefully smoothed circles over the boy’s back as he exited the Tower into the night, starting his usual walk around the block when he himself could not sleep.

“You’re alright, _bambino_. It was just a nightmare. You’re safe with me,” Tony murmured as they walked, silently hoping that it was late enough that no one would be out.

Finding an empty bench near a streetlight in view of the Tower, Tony sat with the boy, cradling him close. With a raw ache of what could only be described as paternal protectiveness in his chest, Tony pressed his lips to PJ’s forehead, letting his eyes close as he rocked them.

“Shh, my darling, I know you’ve been through so much,” he whispered, pulling back to smile sadly down at the whimpering child, “Try and sleep, yeah? I’ll watch over you. No one will hurt you. Not while I’m here.”

Tony sifted his fingers through PJ’s curls until the child seemed to tire again, curling up against Tony’s chest with his hand on the reactor. Of course, the usual anxiety settled behind the hunk of metal, but seeing how peaceful the child looked, basked in the cerulean light—he couldn’t help but feel a smile twitch onto his lips.

He stayed like that, watching PJ breathe in and out until he was sure that the child wouldn’t wake again. Standing with a grunt, Tony kept PJ close to his chest as he started the walk back to the Tower. He’d barely made it across the sidewalk when the snap of a twig caught his ear; holding PJ a bit tighter, Tony picked up his pace just a bit, trying not to alert whoever was out that he had heard them. Reaching for his phone, he suddenly realized he was in silk pajamas and loafers, and not at all equipped for a fight.

_Oh, shit._

Hearing footsteps now, Tony decided to fuck it, and started to sprint, calculating the distance from his position to not only the Tower, but the radius from it with which JARVIS could detect his position even without his watch—

Skidding to a stop, he faced the three HYDRA agents that stepped out of the shadows, only to turn and see five more agents in his peripheral; Tony took one last look at the Tower before easing his stance into a less aggressive one, swallowing to calm his nerves.

“Evening, fellas. What can I do for you?” He said, attempting to keep his cool, despite the advancing agents.

He could only hope that his calculations were right.


	7. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HYDRA facilities aren't built for kids.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd. Comments, kudos, and art really appreciated. You can ask me questions over at @avengersasssemble on tumblr.com.

His back was cold, his chest hurt like hell, and from the feel of things, he was definitely missing his shirt and pants.

Wonderful.

_At least they let me keep my underwear_.

Attempting to push himself up into a sitting position, Tony let out a hiss of breath, his hand immediately going to his left side.

_Broken ribs_ , his mind supplied.

Forcing himself through the pain, Tony took a look around, letting his eyes adjust to the room lit only by his arc reactor. Slowly, the past few hours’ memories trickled into his brain, and he froze, realizing a second body was missing.

“PJ? Honey?” He managed, voice raw from either screaming or the dry air, “Are you in here?”

Dragging himself to a standing position, Tony stumbled to the wall, bracing a hand against the cold concrete. He forced himself to count through his breaths, shoving down the sharp pains all over his body so he could begin to investigate the room: four concrete walls, no windows; two bed frames, a mattress chained to each; a metal door, most likely iron, with a closed slat at the top and a closed slat at the bottom.

_Wonderful, it’s a medieval jail cell_.

He hobbled around the cell and checked under the beds, but as he suspected, he came up empty. With anxiety and worry building in his chest, Tony put a hand over the reactor, momentarily wondering if it was possible for the machine to pop out on its own from the pressure in his heart. Taking a seat on one of the beds, he put his head in his hands, taking a deep breath. He sat like that for only a moment, until he realized he had at least one advantage:

He could hear them.

Unsteadily getting back up to his feet, Tony barely made it back over to the wall with the iron door; hissing out painful breaths, he slowly slid down to the ground, bracing his back up against the concrete. Closing his eyes, he concentrated, hearing the footsteps move back and forth on the other side of the wall.

_Four different gaits. Four different guards in pairs of twos, walking ten steps in one direction, then pause, then scuffle, then walking ten steps in the opposite direction. Shit, they really must be taking precautionary measures._

He took a moment to collect himself, heaving against the wall as the pains in his chest subsided to a persistent throb. Thunking his head back against the concrete, Tony groaned quietly and opened his eyes, allowing himself point-five seconds of self-pity before forcing himself to his feet again. Walking around the room, he counted his sluggish steps, mentally constructing a blueprint of the room in case he would need it. Once he was assured in his calculations, he finally went back to the beds, allowing himself to lay down on a mattress.

“This fucking sucks,” Tony voiced, wincing at how gravelly he sounded.

“It could be much worse, Mister Stark,” a voice with a heavy German accent called out.

Leaning up at the voice, Tony hissed as pain ripped through his side again, but quickly bottled it up when he saw the top slat of the door open.

“Where’s Peter?’ He demanded, getting to his feet to stomp over to the door, pain be damned, “Where’s the kid? If you’ve hurt him, I swear to _god_ that I will rip you limb from limb.”

“You believe in a god, Mister Stark? How…naïve,” Arnim Zola crooned from the other side of the door, the pixels of his smile stuttering as the picture shifted, “The subject is alive, as long as you…behave. It seems to fair better knowing that you are alive, so for now, your life is as good as its cooperation.”

“I am going to kill you with my bare hands, you fucking Teletubby,” Tony growled, knowing that for the moment, it was all bluster.

“We shall see, Mister Stark. Until then, enjoy your stay. Oh, and don’t get too comfortable—I have a few instructions of my own that I would like to give you with the subject present.”

The slat quickly slid across and clicked shut, causing Tony to hiss in frustration.

“Dammit!” He shouted, wishing he could kick something without seriously injuring himself.

Growling low in his throat, Tony trudged back to the mattress, collapsing down onto it with a groan of pain. He moved until he was somewhat comfortable, staring at the empty bed across the room. A wave of nausea rolled through him as he thought of what Zola could possibly be doing to PJ—images of Afghanistan flashed through his mind, causing Tony to start shaking, despite the cell being fairly warm. Knowing he was hyperventilating, he forced himself onto his knees, curling up into a turtle formation even though new pain ripped through his ribcage and over his back.

_Focus, Stark,_ his brain yelled, nearly drowned out by the waves of intrusive thoughts that threatened to send him into a full-blown panic attack, _you need to FOCUS. Battle plan. You’re pretty sure you got within a close enough range of the Tower that one of the outlying defense bots could pick up on your trigger words. That means J was notified, and he notified the team, which means they got your coordinates from the GPS—_

Tony reached up to put both of his hands on the back of his neck, simulating rocking back-and-forth as he secretly brushed along his skin. Feeling that the faintly raised scar hadn’t been disturbed, a small sense of peace overcame him, but he kept up the attack symptoms, working through the plan in his head.

_Okay, GPS is still there. Hopefully, they got a lock before you ended up surrounded by concrete. They’ll come for you, Steve will come for you—_

At the thought of Steve, Tony sat up straight as he realized their conversation had never finished. However, the movement caused more pain to tear into him and it surprised him enough that he gasped out loud, clapping a hand over his mouth to stifle the noise. He feared that the guards had heard him, but as silent seconds ticked by, Tony relaxed, only to have the iron door swing open and bang loudly against the concrete wall. The noise caused him to scream, the sound dying in his throat as a small figure was shoved into the room and the door was yanked shut with another bang.

“Peter? PJ?” Tony asked, swallowing his pain as he dropped off the mattress and onto his knees, “Is that you, baby?”

The figure’s head snapped up, and upon seeing the familiar brown and blue eyes looking back at him, Tony nearly broke down into tears, lifting up his arms. The child dragged himself over and collapsed into Tony’s hold, sobbing deeply into his bruised shoulder.

_I can’t believe I let this happen to you._

“Shh, my darling, I have you,” Tony whispered, rocking them both back and forth as he gathered the boy up into his arms, “It’s okay, I’m just glad you’re _alive_ , I really—”

He cut off the sentence by pressing his lips to PJ’s temple, closing his eyes as he felt a tear slip down his cheek; one way or another, HYDRA was going to pay, and he as going to make sure it was with blood for hurting his little boy.

“Okay, okay, I—PJ, I need to check and see what they did to you, honey,” Tony finally admitted, swallowing his guilt as he forced himself to peel the child away from him, “Let me look you over, then we can have more warm hugs, okay?”

Having the boy stand in front of him, Tony was at least thankful that HYDRA had let him keep his Captain America pajamas; slowly, he got PJ to shuck off the shirt, using only the light from his arc reactor to illuminate the boy’s injuries. Methodically, Tony worked up and down PJ’s arms before doing so with his chest and back, breathing out thankfully once he was finished.

“Just some bruising, nothing too bad,” he said, thankful for small mercies as he handed PJ his shirt to put back on, “Do your legs hurt at all? Any ouchies?”

The boy shook his head, only to point at the blue and purple mottling on Tony’s side.

“Hurt,” he said quietly, his voice raw.

“It’s okay. I’m tough. Made of iron,” Tony soothed, quick to change the subject, “Want to sit on the bed? We can—”

He grunted as PJ threw himself back into Tony’s hold, but he quickly got his arms around the boy, picking him up off the floor so his bare feet wouldn’t touch the concrete. With some maneuvering—and a hell of a lot of internalized screaming from the pain—he managed to get them both onto the one bed, his arms still tight around PJ.

“We’re going to be okay, I promise,” Tony whispered, “Papa and the team are all going to be looking for us. They’ll come for us, I promise. We just have to survive until then, yeah? Can you do that? No matter—no matter what they ask, you _have_ to be good for them. Okay? Don’t—don’t give them a reason to hurt you. I know you’re scared, I know, I am too. But we just have to hold out a little longer. Until then, we have to play it safe. Alright? You’re so, so strong, I _know_ you can do this. I’ll do what I can to keep you safe, I promise.”

PJ nodded against his chest, his hand splaying out across the glass of the arc reactor; he seemed to be calmed by the light, and after a few minutes, familiar snuffles of the boy’s snoring filled the otherwise silent room.

Tony had never felt more grateful for the device in his life.

He held tight to the boy for what felt like hours, not daring to let him go or move them in case he woke the child up. Instead, Tony stared up at the ceiling in the semi-cerulean darkness, silently wishing he had been awake during the transport so he could at least know the right direction to getting topside if they were ever given the chance to escape. Closing his eyes, he tried to imagine the original bunker PJ was found in. If HYDRA was as predictable as they had been in the past, the bunker should have roughly the same layout.

Then again, the whole situation was nowhere near predictable, so Tony let out a defeated sigh and opened his eyes again to the semi-darkness.

Eventually, there was a heavy set of three knocks on the door before it opened again, this time a little more gently than before.

“Up and at ‘em, Stark. Zola wants to see you. Bring the subject,” the lackey said, hefting his weapon in his hands, “Move.”

“Hey, we gotta go, kiddo, okay?” Tony whispered to PJ, hearing the boy fuss as he woke up, “You go right back to sleep. I’ll carry you.”

Carefully, Tony sat up, ignoring the black spots in his vision as he shifted PJ to his right hip. With a little difficulty, he managed to get to his feet and walk them over to the door, ignoring how the lackey poked his back with the muzzle of the weapon.

“I’m moving, I’m moving,” Tony grumbled, “Lead the way.”

Seeing as he was surrounded by three other guards, was wounded, and also carrying PJ, he wisely decided to obey the guards, but kept his head up to look around. He could count steps in his sleep, so Tony was careful to be over-observant, noting that they passed what looked like a medical wing and a storage bay before being led up what could only be described as a grand staircase.

“At least my glutes are getting a good workout,” Tony muttered to himself.

After numerous twisting hallways, they ended up in front of two large, oak doors. Two of the lackeys swung them both open, while the other two jabbed their weapons into Tony’s back to get him to stumble forward into the opulent study. Even Tony was impressed: more by the massive amount of scientific equipment in the room, rather than the sheer wealth and power that the room radiated.

“Ah, Stark, so glad you could join us,” Zola’s voice came from a nearby monitor.

The picture jumped around the room until it landed at the monitor on the focal desk, displaying Zola’s face in annoyingly HD quality.

“Glad isn’t exactly the word I’d use, but alright,” Tony answered, moving forward with a hand on PJ’s back, “And could we tone it down a bit? Kid’s kind of exhausted from the whole kidnapping-thing.”

“It will have plenty of time to sleep. Now, I have matters to discuss,” Zola continued, “The fact that the subject is alive is…impressive. Upon your _disastrous_ attack on the other compound, I thought I had ordered for all the subjects to be terminated, but apparently, this one slipped through my fingers. I thought little of it, figuring it would succumb to its injuries and die and that would be that. However, your… _unsuspected_ nurturing seems to have kept the subject alive and calm. Which, for me, is optimal for completing my tests.”

“And why in the he—heck would I let you do that?” Tony snapped, only to shush PJ when the boy whined.

Seeing Zola’s pixelated eyebrow quirk up, Tony narrowed his eyes.

“Because the other option is to kill us? You won’t do that. He’s too important to you, and you know that the instant you kill me, he’ll stop cooperating, not to mention you’ll have to deal with the other Avengers’ wrath.”

“I figure they are on their way, so we have limited time as it is,” Zola said smoothly, “We will be transporting you out shortly. For the time being, we will allow you access to facilities to clean up, as well as provide you with new clothing. In two to three hours, you will be leaving the facility to be transported to another bunker for more…extensive testing. As long as you cooperate, we will keep you sheltered, fed, and clean in relative comfort. I’m a scientist, not a sadist. However, if you cross me, I will make sure you watch as I break every bone in that child’s body. Understand?”

Gritting his teeth, Tony felt a growl rise in his throat, but he tamped it down in favor of holding PJ just a bit tighter.

“Why?” He finally asked, “Why are you doing this?”

Zola’s pixels shrugged, and a positively sinister smile danced across the screen.

“You are the genius. You figure it out. Guards, take them away.”

Wanting to snap back, Tony sucked back his words as pain nearly made his knees buckle when two of the guards yanked him up out of his seat. He managed to get his feet under him as they walked the same path back toward their cell, with PJ still tucked into his shoulder. He followed the guards into the medical wing, extremely reluctant to let any of the staff come near him. Eventually, he was corralled back toward what looked like a decontamination shower with six guards standing watch.

“There’s soap and other cleaning materials in the shower. Leave them in the shower when you are finished. You have twenty minutes to get yourself and the subject washed, then you will be given towels and clothing,” one of them said, staring straight ahead, “You may begin.”

Sighing, Tony headed into the shower with PJ, having to convince the boy to let go of his neck so he could put him down.

“Okay, kiddo. I know you hate water, but we need to clean ourselves up and get this over with,” Tony murmured, holding his hand out to the clearly frightened child, “You trust me, yeah?”

With a tiny nod, the boy slipped his tiny hand into Tony’s palm, squeezing his hand tightly. Offering back a weak smile, Tony helped PJ to shed his Captain America pajamas, setting them outside of the shower.

“Those come with us,” he told the guard, “He needs them.”

The guard broke his stoic gaze to flick his eyes over, nodding once before turning back to staring straight ahead. Sighing softly, Tony headed back into the shower, deciding to leave his own underwear on.

“Alright, honey. Watch out for the spray,” he told PJ before turning the shower on.

He reached his hand into the water, feeling his own heartbeat quicken as the water dampened his skin. With a heavy swallow, Tony stepped under the shower and worked himself over with the tiny shampoo bottle and soap first, focusing on his feet to try and keep from panicking any more than he already was. Stepping out from the spray, he sighed, thankful that he at least felt a bit cleaner.

“Okay, your turn,” he said to PJ, crouching down and holding his hand out, “C’mere.”

Timid as could be, the boy shuffled under the spray, shaking despite the warmth of the water. Tony quickly cleaned the boy up, whispering to him the whole time to try and soothe his nerves.

“You’re doing so well, _bambino_. You’re almost done,” he murmured, quickly scrubbing PJ down with a scrap of washcloth, “Then we’ll get you all wrapped up in a towel and _maybe_ one of the nice guards can get us a blanket, yeah? And then Papa will be here soon, and he’ll be so happy to see you, I bet he’ll even kiss your cute face because he missed you so much—”

Turning off the water, Tony set all of the cleaning supplies back where they had been before going back out of the shower, glad to see that they at least had _real_ towels. He quickly took them from the guard, padding back over to PJ to hand one to the child before wrapping his own around his waist. Then, he bundled up the tot in his own towel and scooped him up into his arms, exiting the shower and grabbing the Captain America pajamas. He followed the guards to an adjoining room to change, sighing at the nurse that was staring at him. Having lost all his modesty in his teens, Tony quickly set PJ down and dried himself off to the best of his ability. Then, turning to put his body between the boy and the guards, he quickly took PJ’s towel to get the boy dry, smiling at the child’s small smile when his hair was ruffled.

“Okay, we’re good. Clothes?” Tony called, turning once PJ was wrapped in the towel again.

The nurse stepped forward with two sets of identical clothing: a white t-shirt, gray sweatpants, and what looked and felt like ballerina slippers.

_Better than nothing_.

“Ah, Mister Stark?” The nurse asked quietly, edging forward as Tony was in the middle of getting PJ into his new clothes, “Overlord Zemo asked me to attend to your injuries. Apparently, the child was… _uncooperative_ when he learned of your state.”

PJ looked at his feet and Tony glanced over his shoulder, giving the girl a suspicious look.

“Fine, but he stays right here with me,” he said, having to bite back a smile as PJ’s hand slipped into his own, “Nothing funny. I’m more than my devilish good looks, ma’am.”

The nurse looked unimpressed, but nodded, waiting for Tony to stand before ushering them both over to a gurney. Tony quickly picked PJ up and set him on the bed before sitting on it himself, only showing any signs of pain when the nurse began to poke at the mess of bruises on his left side.

“ _Ow_ , careful, that’s broken,” He griped, barely resisting the urge to smack her hands away,   
“You sure are _attending_ to my injuries, but making them worse isn’t going to help anyone, buttercup.”

“It’s not just broken. I think the muscle is torn as well,” she sighed, ignoring his complaint, “There’s not much to do but ice it. I’ll have the guards regularly bring you ice packs.”

“I could have told you that,” Tony muttered under his breath, slipping on his clothes once the nurse turned to grab an empty chart to start making notes.

Once he was dressed, he turned to PJ, sighing softly to see the boy fast asleep on the bed, clutching at his pajamas. Tony gently reached over to brush the wet curls out of his face, only to hiss as the nurse placed an ice pack on his injury and wrapped it to his chest with a large bandage.

“That should last until transport. I’ll have one of the guards bring a replacement then,” she said, testing the bandage’s integrity before nodding her head, “Wake up the subject, you are to report back to your room.”

Frowning, Tony slid off the gurney, shifting uncomfortably at the ice pressed to his chest. He quickly scooped up PJ and the pajamas, holding the child tight as he followed the nurse to be returned to his six-guard entourage. Quickly, the guards fell into place around him, marching him back out of the medical wing and toward the cell he had woken up in. Before the door closed, he turned around, clearing his throat.

“Could we get a blanket? Kid’s practically shivering and it’ll help keep us warm,” Tony asked, bouncing PJ in his arms.

The six guards stared at him for a moment, but one of them eventually split off, returning with a blanket that Tony noted was similar to the blanket he had found in the original compound to wrap PJ in. With a nod, Tony backed off from the doorway, watching the iron door close with four hefty clicks.

“Four locks,” he murmured to himself, carrying PJ over to one of the beds.

Seeing as the child had woken up, he let PJ stand on the bed, handing him the blanket.

“Stay,” Tony said before turning to go investigate the other bed.

As per his first investigation, the mattress was certainly chained to the bed frame, but the bed frame wasn’t chained down. Snorting a laugh, Tony slowly dragged over the second bed, fitting it up against the first bed to make a larger area to lay down. With a wince, he laid down and sprawled on the beds, smiling as PJ then settled down next to him, careful to be on his side that wasn’t being iced.

“You okay, kiddo?” Tony murmured, spreading out their new blanket over them both, “I got you. And hopefully, the others will be here soon. Do you think you can sleep? It’ll help you feel a little better.”

Blinking sad brown and blue up at Tony, PJ nodded, shifted himself around until he was comfortable, his eyes drifting shut. Once his small snoring started up, Tony glanced down, feeling his heart break at the pure exhaustion written into the child’s features. Of course, the familiarity of the look stung, but he couldn’t help but stare at how intertwined his and Steve’s mechanisms were already showing through PJ: a little crease between his eyebrows as he slept had always been Rogers’ MO, his nose crinkling as he dreamt had always been a feature that Pepper had said Tony had as he slept. Even if he hadn’t known PJ was his own, he would have been able to tell just by watching the kid. And that scared the hell out of him.

If he, the most oblivious person, could see it, _anyone_ could see it. Which, unfortunately, included villains.

Letting that juicy thought sit in his forebrain, Tony closed his eyes, attempting to at least try to sleep so he would be rested for the transfer. Figuring that the others had been gone awhile before he was even taken, they probably weren’t close to his location, and thus the next few hours could be vital for resting for when the inevitable breakout happened. That is, if they managed to get into wherever the hell he was to break them out.

_C’mon, Rogers. You and Barton should have been able to get to us by now_ , he thought to himself, staring at the back of his eyelids, _I am so going to kick both of your asses once you actually decide to show up._

He was finally about to nod off, exhausted from the whole ordeal, when hurried footsteps echoed down the hall and the door slammed open with a bang, causing him to shout and PJ to scream and burst into tears.

“Move! We’re extracting, let’s _go_ ,” the guard barked, pointing his weapon up rather than at them, “Get the kid and _hustle_.”

Flailing a little, Tony kicked off the blanket and hopped out of the bed, hurriedly shoving PJ’s pajamas into his pockets before scooping up the kid, who was thankfully dry other than his sobbing.

“Hush, I got you, just focus on me,” Tony murmured to the boy, holding him close as he was ushered out by the guard down the hallway, “We’re going to be okay, I _promise_ —”

“Move! Move! Move!” Another guard shouted as they stumbled into a turn, causing Tony to grunt from the pain in his side.

“I _so_ hate kidnappers, you guys have the worst hospitality,” he muttered under his breath.

He felt his skin prickle as they nearly ran through a large hangar, with their one measly guard forcing them into the back of a truck. A second guard slipped in with them, and the first guard hesitated, but ultimately slid into the driver’s side and started up the car.

“Don’t make me knock you and the kid out. We only need you alive, not in one piece,” the second guard growled, eyeing Tony, “Sit down and shut up.”

Knowing he was still at a disadvantage due to his injury, and not wanting to put PJ at risk, Tony sat on one of the side benches, looking out the window as he tried to console the boy. He decided to bounce PJ on his knee, which for the moment calmed his crying, and allowed Tony to fully focus his brain on their surroundings passing them.

_We’ve got to be going at least 80 miles an hour. Looks like jungle trees, but not Wakandian. Not enough panther statues. There isn’t exactly a jungle near Manhattan, so maybe the Amazon? Random African jungle?_

Settling for ‘who the fuck knows’ as to their location, Tony was about to turn to sink down into his seat when a familiar whizzing sound came oddly close to the truck, and a very pointy arrowhead stared back at them, lodged into the door.

“What the hell?” The guard asked, just as Tony cradled PJ to his chest and dived to the far side of the truck.

He maneuvered himself to curl over the boy’s body, shielding him from the blast that rocked the car and blew open the truck doors. Noticing that they didn’t slow down, he turned to look over his shoulder, and there he was: sweet Steve, _beautiful_ Steve, driving a stolen motorbike with Clint riding bitch.

“Hey!” Clint yelled, grinning like an idiot as he continued to shoot despite not even turning his head, “We heard you got into some trouble!”

Tony rolled his eyes and scooted to the edge of the car, not at all feeling bad as pushed the unconscious guard aside.

“I’m always in trouble,” he yelled back, winking.

Steve’s steady hands faltered for a fraction of a second, but Tony caught it and took that as a personal win.

“Hey kid, I’m going to need you to hold onto me, okay?” Tony asked PJ, giving him a serious look, “If we’re going to get out of this one, we gotta keep the touch for a while. Can you do that?”

PJ opened his mouth to answer, but a tiny shocked gasp came out instead. 

“Tony!” Steve screamed, just as the engineer was tugged back by the now conscious HYDRA guard.

“Aye, we don’t really need you, bitch. As long as I kill you, we’ll have at least one notch on our belts,” the guard growled, using Tony as a human shield, “Or, maybe I’ll just—what’s this? A fancy little scar?”

Tony struggled and tried to get out of the guard’s grasp, but with the other kneeling on his legs and his arm around his throat, all he could do was struggle for air and claw at the guard. A sharp pain cut through him, causing him to scream bloody murder as he felt fingers start to probe in the gash in his neck.

“Cap, I got a shot—”

“Don’t take it, you might hit Tony—”

“If I don’t take it, we might not _have_ a Tony!”

Once the agonizing pain started to subside, Tony let out another painful scream at a sharp tug and give. The guard tsked and one arm came around to show Tony the bloody GPS chip in his palm.

“So that’s how you did it, huh? What if I just kick you out now? The good Captain won’t be able to slow up in time before he runs you over and shoves your broken ribs into your heart,” the goon purred, flicking the chip out of the truck, “We’ll still have the kid, and we got by before without you.”

“Right,” Tony bit out, still clawing at the guard’s arm around his neck, “That _kid_ is my fucking _son_ , you bastard.”

Thankfully, the guard hadn’t seemed to notice that PJ had scooted around the two of them, standing behind them both as he cowered. However, once Tony’s neck had been sliced open, a deep anger welled up in the boy’s body, to the point where he reached out, and with one good yank, pulled the guard away and hurtled him into the back of the truck. The guard smacked against the divide with a sharp crack, slumping down into the bed of the truck. Able to gulp down breaths, Tony turned to look at PJ, but decided that addressing the sudden strength could wait.

“Good work, kiddo,” he panted, crawling back to grab the guard, “Let’s give him a one-two, yeah?”

He dragged the guard over to the edge of the truck, and with PJ’s help, pushed the body out, smirking as Steve expertly jumped the motorbike over the body.

“You okay?” Steve yelled, “Grab my hand, we’ll get you out!”

Tony looked at PJ, and at the boy’s nod, helped him up onto his back to fiercely hold onto him. Despite both vehicles still going way over 80 miles an hour, Tony reached out his hand toward Steve’s gloved one, shaky as he felt blood trickle down his spine from the gash in his neck. He’d barely scraped his fingertips along Steve’s fingers when shots rang out, forcing Tony back into the car and Steve to slam on the brakes. The last thing he saw was Clint yelling as HYDRA agents swarmed the duo before Tony fell back into darkness.


	8. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A familiar face and a car chase.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd. Comments, kudos, and art really appreciated. You can ask me questions over at @avengersasssemble on tumblr.com.

_“Is he dead?”_

_“No, Clint, he’s not dead.”_

_“He looks kind of dead.”_

_“He’s asleep and you can see him breathing. Why don’t you go join Steve and keep PJ company?”_

_“Fine. Come get us once he wakes up.”_

Tony heard a door creak, and once the footfalls died away, he cracked open his eyes. His first impulse was to try and sit up, but strong hands were quickly on his shoulders and pushing him back down.

“Hey, take it easy. I just had to patch you up. You lost a bit of blood, so you’re going to be woozy.”

_I know that voice._

Once his blurry vision settled, Tony smiled, relief washing over his body at the familiar man sitting next to his bed.

“Hey, honey bear, good of you to drop in,” he slurred, reaching over to put a hand on Rhodey’s knee, “How’d ya get here?”

“JARVIS sent me the emergency ping, and I was already en route to the Tower, so I took a detour to save your ass,” the Colonel grunted as he put his hand on top of Tony’s, a fond glint in his eye, “How are you feeling?”

“Like a bitch, but I’ll live,” Tony laughed softly, only to grunt as he tried to move, “What happened? Where the _fuck_ are we?”

“Middle of who-the-fuck-knows Florida. I had to leave behind the War Machine suit so I could infiltrate the base, steal a uniform, and try to get you out. Finding you and commandeering the truck was easy, but the second HYDRA guard wasn’t in the plan, so that’s on me,” Rhodey sighed, “I didn’t have my comm on me to tell the others, either, since it was in the suit. For you, other than the neck wound, nothing’s too badly banged up, save for your chest injuries. I had to do some emergency stitching when we got back, but I got word to Steve and I was able to staunch the bleeding until he got here to help. So, other than that, you might have bruising on your back from fainting in the truck and hitting the back divider at a good 85 miles an hour.”

“Mmm, felt like 80,” Tony murmured, taking a look around the room as he tried to not think about Steve’s hands on him, “Is—is this a cabin? Seriously, I don’t remember ever buying a cabin.”

“You didn’t. Bruce did,” Rhodey laughed, “You gave each of us money for a safehouse, right? This is one of his. He said you owe him for a new safehouse that you won’t be able to find and bother him in.”

Tony rolled his eyes, but nodded, content with the knowledge that he was, for the moment, safe. He nearly was about to drift off when a sudden thought caused him to sit up straight, almost vomiting from the rush of blood.

“PJ? Where’s the kid?” he rasped, trying to push past Rhodey, “Where is he?”

“Tony—Tony, _Anthony_ ,” Rhodey grabbed hold of Tony’s shoulders, using his strength advantage to manhandle him back into the bed, “He’s okay, he’s in the living room with Steve and Clint. He’s just a bit shaken up. Once you can sit up and _not_ feel like death, he can come see you, okay? Jesus, man, give yourself five seconds to recoup. Alright? Pep will kill me if I let you get hurt when I’m actually here to watch you.”

At the threat of Pepper, Tony pouted, but sunk back down onto the bed, letting Rhodey tsk as he covered the engineer with a blanket.

“I’ll go get you food and a drink, and send it in with Steve and the kid. Which, by the way, you still need to explain his existence to me. I wasn’t exactly expecting to wake up the other day with a godson,” Rhodey grunted, flicking Tony’s ear, “Not only that, but I heard it through _Pepper_ and not _you_.”

“Hey! I was _going_ to tell you,” Tony complained sourly, reaching up to rub his ear, “And hitting an injured person? That’s cold, honey bear. You’re mean.”

“I’m about to get meaner, too. You’re on bedrest for at least a week to give those ribs time to heal.”

Tony whined loudly at that, only stopping at a faint knock on the door.

“Colonel? PJ, ah, heard Tony, and is asking about him.”

_Good, wonderful, perfect, beautiful Steve._

“I’m awake, you can come in,” Tony called over Rhodey’s response, grinning at the other’s clearly displeased look.

The door creaked open, and there he was: amazing, gorgeous, _lovely_ Steve, stripped down to a tank top and jeans with PJ in his presumably clean Captain America pajamas, perched on the blond’s hip. The sight alone made Tony sigh happily, only to suck in a breath as the two men gave him a quizzical look.

“I’m fine. How are you?” He said quickly, ignoring Rhodey’s prolonged stare, “I thought you guys got swarmed.”

“We did. But we’re also good at our jobs,” Steve snorted, letting PJ down once the boy started to wiggle, “I think SHIELD is starting to form an attack plan while we still know where the main base is. Some of the others are already on site and I might go back to help.”

“No,” Rhodey and Tony said simultaneously, to which the former stared more at the latter, his quirked eyebrow the only indication that he planned on bringing this conversation back up later.

_Great._

“I—uh, we need to make sure PJ stays calm, and you and I are the only ones who seem to be able to do that successfully,” Tony continued, smiling as the boy toddled over and hefted himself up onto the bed, “Plus, if I’m supposed to be staying in bed, you’re more likely to let me leave.”

“Incorrect, he’ll actually make you stay because he’s a _responsible_ adult.”

“Your words hurt me, honey bear.”

Steve sighed and ran a hand through his hair, eventually offering the men a resigned smile.

“Alright. I’ll stay put. But that means you should go join them, Colonel,” he decided, “Take Clint with you. He could use some exercise.”

“I heard that,” Clint yelled from somewhere in the safehouse.

Tony laughed at that, only to groan at the pain in his neck. He looked up at PJ, the boy’s worry showing in the scrunch of his brows.

“Hey, I’m alright, pumpkin. Just a little beat. You wanna lay down with me?” He asked softly.

At the boy’s nod, Tony scooted over and tugged the covers down, glad to see that he was at least dressed. PJ quickly snuggled up to Tony’s side, and once he was settled, Steve stepped up to tuck the covers around them both.

“You got this handled? For sure?” Rhodey asked, watching the moment with a careful eye.

“Yes. I’ll stay put,” Steve answered, turning to clasp Rhodey’s hand, “Go save the world, Colonel. I can play house until it’s safe to go.”

Rhodey nodded and shook Steve’s hand, moving to step over to Tony’s side. He knelt down, whispering low enough that only he could hear.

“You can explain this to me too. Godson and a brother-in-law, hm?” he murmured.

Tony grunted at that, but didn’t _deny_ the comment, to which Rhodey smirked.

“Behave for the Captain. I’ll see you guys in a bit,” he said at a normal volume as he walked out the door, “Remember to feed him and make him drink _water_. Barton? Let’s move.”

The door swung shut as Rhodey left, leaving Tony with a very tired child and a seemingly frazzled larger child. At least he could help the former by keeping him snuggled up to his side.

“So, the walk went great,” Tony said, a pained smile on his face at Steve’s laugh.

“Yeah, seemed to help a whole lot,” the Captain answered, sitting down on the edge of the bed, “We’re great parents.”

“Mmm, the _best_.”

_At least you didn’t get the kid captured and probably tortured. Again._

They looked at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter, however sad it was. Startled by the noise, PJ sat up, looking at the two adults in confusion. He slipped his thumb into his mouth with a soft whine, tugging on his pajama shirt.

“ _Go_ ,” he mumbled around the digit.

“You take him, then make sure he eats,” Tony said, moving his arm so PJ could climb off the bed, “You be good for Ste—for Papa, okay?”

Steve raised an eyebrow at Tony as he stood from the bed, holding his hand out to the boy.

“I’ll bring you food once we’re done,” He said as PJ slipped his hand into Steve’s palm, “Stay put.”

Once they were gone, Tony sunk down into the bed, pulling the covers up over his head.

_I am undeniably fucked. Not that I don’t want to play house and have Captain America be my wonderful, extremely handsome superhero husband with our weird mesh-child, but I’m pretty sure my brain is going to explode if he tries to even hold my fucking hand._

Pausing in his thought, Tony sat up with a grunt, adjusting his pillows so he could at least stay sitting up. He felt like whining loudly to get Steve to bring him some sort of painkiller, but he’d rather slice off his own toes before admitting to the Captain that he was needy.

_I’m not needy. Definitely not. Not for Steve, of all people. I definitely don’t want to constantly have the undivided attention of that delicious hunk of American freedom—_

Deciding that for once in his life he could swallow his pride better than his pain, Tony swung himself out of bed, wrapping the comfortable blanket around his shoulders before padding out of the room. He followed the sounds of Steve’s gentle baritone, eventually finding himself in the kitchen, where the blond was attempting to feed PJ bits of what looked like a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

“Need help?” Tony asked, grinning at Steve’s glare once he realized the brunet was sitting at the table.

“You should be in bed,” He answered, “If you rip the stitches, Colonel Rhodes is going to eat me alive.”

“Nah. He might chew you out, but he’ll come after my ass for moving before ever going after you.”

Looking across the table, Tony gave a gentle smile to PJ, seeing the boy’s wariness at the sandwich in front of him.

“Pumpkin, you need to eat if you ever want to be ridiculously buff like your Papa,” he said, picking up a knife from the table to start cutting the sandwich into cubes, “Besides, PB&J is the best kind of sandwich. I promise you’ll like it.”

Picking up a piece for himself, Tony popped it into his mouth with a hum, genuinely considering moaning from how _good_ such a simple treat could taste. After watching Tony eat it, PJ picked up a piece for himself to nibble on. Once he got a taste, the boy quickly went to scarfing down the sandwich, crusts and all.

“Wow,” Steve said, blinking in shock, “That…was easy. How did you know to do that?”

“Mom did it for me. Now, are you going to make _me_ food?” Tony replied, dismissing it with a wave of his hand, “I’m the one who’s really, _really_ injured, so I think you should make me a sandwich, too.”

“Sure. Let me use my ridiculously buff body to make you a sandwich, your majesty,” Steve snorted, standing from the table to go make a plate.

“Thank you, my lord.”

Tony leaned forward as he watched Steve bustle about, subconsciously focusing on the other’s broad shoulders and the muscles moving under the thin tank top. He nearly got lost in thought before two hands were tugging on his pant leg, dragging him back to reality. Looking down, he smiled at PJ, sitting back in his chair.

“C’mon, you.”

With the invitation, the child easily scrambled up into Tony’s lap, snuggling up against his chest to be next to the arc reactor. He put his little hand up to rest on the glass covering, accidentally leaving sticky residue from the jelly that had gotten on his fingers. Tony grimaced, but didn’t comment, deciding to just make sure PJ’s hands were washed before he was allowed in laps.

“Alright, one sandwich coming up,” Steve said, breaking his train of thought as he placed the plate in front of Tony, “And you, young man, need to be cleaned up, and probably put down for a nap.”

“Go on,” Tony said to PJ, nudging him as he looked at Steve’s outstretched arms, “He won’t hurt you. I’ll come see you once I’m done here, okay?”

PJ gave Tony a wary look, and with a small huff, let Steve pick him up. He gave a sad wave as he was carried off, causing the other to bite his lip to keep from smiling too wide. Tony turned back to his food, realizing how hungry he was as he started to chow down. Even after one sandwich was done, he stood from the table and went over to the kitchen counter, making himself a second sandwich to eat. He’d just cut the crusts off of the sandwich when familiar footsteps came into the kitchen stopping just behind him.

“Couldn’t wait?”

“Nope,” He answered, not turning around to face Steve, “Hungry.”

Tony quickly started to nibble on the food, growling as Steve came into his peripheral.

“I’m not going to take it from you, jeez,” he snorted, putting up his hands defensively, “I’m going to clean up this stuff.”

“Yeah, sure. You and your super soldier metabolism are going to take all my crumbs,” Tony grunted, licking his fingers free of jelly before moving to wash his hands and carefully clean the reactor, “How did he go down? Fussy?”

“Not too bad. I think he gets upset when you’re not there, though,” Steve answered quietly, “He definitely is more attached to you.”

“Ah, c’mon, Cap. You just have to spend time with him, that’s all,” Tony said, drying his hands and hopping up onto the counter to watch the other, “He really does like you. I just think it’s in his nature to be afraid first and curious second. He’ll need time, but he’ll come around.”

It was quiet for a moment as Steve wiped down the counters, his brows pulled together in the little tick that showed he was thinking; Tony made a noise, rolling his eyes when the other made the noise back.

“Penny for your thoughts, Captain.”

“You know you can just call me Steve,” he mumbled, “But I’m afraid for the kid. Kidnapping isn’t exactly playtime.”

“I know,” Tony said softly, looking down as he wrung his hands between his knees, “And there was a bit there where I was knocked out cold and he was in their hands. I don’t know what happened, but I have a feeling that if I ask, I won’t get an answer.”

The two men looked at each other for a moment, a mutual understanding sending chills down Tony’s spine. He looked away before Steve did, slipping off the counter with a grunt. Realizing that his pain was better without an ice pack on, horror must have shown on his face, because Steve was right there, his hands gentle on Tony’s biceps.

“Tony? What’s wrong?” He asked, looking into the other’s eyes, “You with me?”

“What did you give me? What did you do?” Tony asked sharply, “Why do I feel better?”

Steve’s brows shot up to his hairline before he backed off with a sheepish grin, putting a hand on the back of his neck.

“Uh, Colonel Rhodes told me to crush up some ibuprofen and put it in your food so you’d take it,” he explained, his cheeks flushing as he looked down at his feet, “I wasn’t too keen on the idea, but he said you can be stubborn when it comes to medication, and I didn’t want you to be hurting if we could alleviate it.”

Tony stared at Steve for a few seconds before letting out a relieved breath, clapping a hand over his heart to steady himself.

“Okay. Roofie-ing me with ibuprofen is ethically questionable, but I was more concerned that it was something with opioids in it,” He explained, “I’m—”

“Jesus, Tony, no. I know you can’t have that,” Steve interrupted, looking a bit horrified himself, “Besides, I wouldn’t even know where—”

“It was just a thought, okay? Just—drop it. I’ll have a conversation with Rhodey later,” Tony interrupted back, putting a hand on his forehead, “Could—could you just please show me where PJ is? I don’t—I don’t want him to be alone right now.”

He realized that Steve knew what he actually meant, but the Captain thankfully shut up and nodded, leading Tony out of the kitchen. They headed upstairs to one of the smaller bedrooms, finding PJ fast asleep in bed.

“Poor thing’s exhausted,” Tony murmured, standing in the doorway, “I wish we could just _leave_ and go _home_.”

Not waiting for an answer, he stepped into the room, toeing off his slippers before sitting on the edge of the bed. PJ made a noise at the movement, soon blinking open his eyes sleepily.

“Hey. You mind if I join you?” Tony whispered.

He smiled gently as the child nodded and scooted over, allowing him to slip under the covers. Once PJ nearly attached himself to Tony’s side, he wrapped his arms around the boy, rubbing circles on his back to try and help him go back to sleep. After a minute, PJ pulled back, shaking his head with a soft whine.

“Papa?” he asked, his eyes already starting to fill with tears.

“Papa? What about Papa?” Tony asked softly, inwardly hoping to avoid another awkward situation.

PJ sat up and smacked the bed, sniffling as he wiped his face on his shirtsleeve.

_Well, fuck_.

“Steve!” Tony called, having PJ put his hands over his ears, “Get up here!”

Listening carefully, Tony had to bite his lip at the barely-audible curse before the quick _thump-thump-thump_ of Steve’s footsteps up the stairs brought him running to the doorway. He looked between the two of them before visibly relaxing, seeing no immediate danger.

“Cold,” PJ said softly, slipping his thumb into his mouth.

Tony motioned at the child, as if to say _yeah, that._ With a soft sigh, Steve nodded, padding over to the other side of the bed. He laid down beside them on top of the covers, at which Tony glared.

“No one’s going to get us, Captain tight—uh, just take your shoes off and get in,” He said, biting down on his curse, “Please?”

Steve narrowed his eyes, but relented, sitting up to zip off his boots and dump them off the side of the bed before maneuvering himself under the sheets. PJ managed a small smile as he snuggled up to the other’s chest, immediately attracted to the warmth. The boy let out a small yawn and settled down with one small hand clutching at Steve’s tank top. Tony stared at the scene, a flutter of something pleasant rising in his chest.

  _Domesticity, you overcooked soufflé. It’s called domesticity._

“If you keep looking at me like that, I might start thinking you’re going to either stab me or kick me out. Or both,” Steve’s quiet voice interrupted his thoughts, “You alright?”

Tony offered a noncommittal hum in response, shoving his arm under his pillow to help prop up his head. He sighed softly, wondering for a moment if he could have ever had this; with Pepper, it was different. He was too scared, too afraid of his own future to even consider putting a _child_ in it. Even though he tried to see, tried to understand the pull of parenthood, the constant nagging fear of turning out to be just like Howard settled like stones in his gut. For Pepper, he’d put in the effort, read the books, and did all he could to make himself into the person she had wanted him to be. Sure, he loved to visit with children, both out in public and during quiet nights at the orphanage, but having a charge of his own? He could barely take care of himself, some days.

_How am I supposed to do this? God, I’m going to fuck up this kid, and it’s going to be my fault when he turns out like me. I mean, I already fucked up and got our asses captured. One day, I’m going to get us killed, and I’m going to have to live with the guilt._

“You know, at one time, I thought I could have something like this.”

Moving his gaze up from PJ to Steve, Tony took in the Captain’s sad smile and fond look at the child between them. He stayed quiet, silently encouraging the other to continue.

“I mean, during the war, I knew I wasn’t possible. Being on the front lines…I knew that to have any semblance of normalcy it would have to wait for the fight to be over. And when I had Peggy—”

Steve paused, flicking his tongue out to wet his lips before biting his bottom lip, the crease between he brows deepening as he thought.

“—I thought that maybe we could have this. Y’know. A kid. A family. White picket fence, apple-pie lifestyle. I’d go on to be, I don’t know, a police officer or a firefighter, she’d be a secretary, and then a homemaker when we had our own pack. But, of course, that wasn’t in the cards. Never was. I see that now. Perhaps it was better that way. Her husband was an excellent man, and with him, she never lost her spark. Went on to be a great woman, friend, founder—”

“Aunt,” Tony added on, “She always talked about you. You know, before we found you, most of what I knew about you came from her. She always had this—this _look_ when she’d talk about you and Barnes. Howard would tease her about it, especially since she’d tear up when I asked where you were. ‘I don’t know, love,’ she’d say, and pick me up to sit on her knees, ‘But wherever he is, he’s being a hero. And one day, he’ll come back. If not in time for me, for you. We need him, you know.’”

Steve dragged his eyes up from PJ to look at Tony, the wet glaze not going unnoticed. Tony huffed and gave a gentle smile, aching to reach out and try and give some sort of comfort.

“She was right,” he continued, opting instead to play with PJ’s hair to keep his hand occupied for the moment, “We do need you. You did what you had to, Steve. Aunt Peg will always have you, even if it was for those few, fleeting moments. Sure, it may not have been a lot, or even enough, but you got to know her enough to love her, and I think that’s important. She never forgot you. She helped Howard look for you—hell, she carried a picture of you in her purse. The pre-serum one. She remembered you as you were, and now you have to do the same.”

Tony sat up, ignoring PJ’s whine for the moment so he could put his hand on Steve’s shaking shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“When this is done,” he said, looking into Steve’s teary eyes, “I promise you, I’ll take you to see her. We’ll go together. Alright? You’re not alone in this. Same way I know that I’m not alone in this, either. Sure, I’m not exactly a kickass, beautiful dame, and nothing about our lives is ever going to be normal, but you’ve got me, the team, and now this small bean. If Aunt Peg was here, she’d be proud, Steve. I know she would be.”

Being careful since PJ was still asleep between them, Tony leaned over to pull Steve into an awkward hug. He let his eyes close for a second, feeling the other tuck his head into his neck, staccato breaths warm on his collarbones. They stayed like that for a moment, with Steve clutching at his back, somehow small despite his physical size. Tony waited for the Captain to pull away first, giving him a fond smile as he reached up to brush away the stray tears on Steve’s cheeks.

“You alright?” He asked, “Do you want to go beat people up to feel manly?”

Steve laughed and sniffled, brushing the last of the tear tracks from his face.

“One can be masculine and outwardly express emotions through crying, Tony. You of all people taught me that,” he teased.

“Oh, so the big man’s got jokes, huh?”

“It’s not my fault that you cry every time we watch _Lilo and Stitch_.”

“Ohana means family, you jerk, it’s _supposed_ to make you cry.”

Steve laughed again, a warm depth to the sound that made Tony’s arm hair stand on end. He never wanted to hear it end, but of course, PJ grunted between them, a tiny hand coming up to pat on Steve’s face.

“Noise,” the tiny voice grumbled.

“Oh, sorry, your highness,” Tony laughed, brushing back PJ’s locks, “We should probably think about moving anyway, darling. I need to get you back to the Tower.”

“Tony, you’re still injured,” Steve said, sitting up with a grunt, “We should _wait_ , and when Colonel Rhodes comes back—”

“Oh, no. Don’t pull the Rhodey card,” Tony interrupted, moving to get out of the bed as well, “I think the child’s safety is a little bit more important than mine right now.”

_Back to the bickering. Good, if we had talked any more emotions, I was going to die of embarrassment._

As Steve put his boots back on, PJ sat up, clearly annoyed at being awake. Still, he crawled over to Tony, who picked the child up and set him on his hip.

“Okay,” the Captain said as he stood, adjusting his shirt, “Fine. But we have no idea how to get back to the Tower, and I’m the only one who can fight. Any more smart ideas?”

Tony nibbled on his inner cheek for a moment as he thought, managing to put his slippers back on before heading out of the room and down to the first floor.

“How did you and Clint get here?” he asked, turning as Steve moved to grab his discarded suit top and shield from the living room couch.

“JARVIS told us to take a car from the garage,” Steve explained as he shrugged into the clothing and strapped the shield to his back, “It’s a, uh, black car. Sleek. Mustang, I think.”

Tony grinned at that, putting his other hand on his hip.

“Good. Smart boy. He deserves an upgrade when we get back. Alright, keys.”

He held his free hand out, wiggling his fingers. Steve sighed, but relented, moving to pick up and toss the keys from a small dish on a nearby table. Tony caught them out of the air, humming tunelessly as he moved to exit the cabin. Rounding the corner of the building, he sighed in relief at the sight of the car in front of him.

“Oh, baby, how I missed you,” Tony purred, “Okay, Steve. You’re taking PJ and sitting in the back with him in your lap.”

“I’m _what_?”

Tony shrugged, handing the child off before Steve could complain.

“No booster seat. Plus, this car is a bit advanced for your geriatric-ness. I need to drive and I can’t have him in the backseat by himself,” he explained, unlocking the doors and opening the passenger side to slide the seat forward, “In. Go.”

“This is a really bad idea, but I know I can’t convince you otherwise,” Steve sighed, letting PJ down to get into the car before sliding in himself, “If we do this, you owe me one.”

“Sure, babe. Just hold him tight. And buckle,” Tony snorted, moving the seat back and shutting the door before going around to the driver’s side.

Once he was seated and buckled himself, he sighed in relief at the sound of the car roaring to life.

“Welcome back, Sir,” JARVIS’ voice filtered through, “How was your excursion?”

“Zero out of five stars, J. Think you can get us home?” Tony asked, idly tapping the wheel.

“You are in too dense of jungle for the flight system to operate on autopilot, and I would not recommend manual mode with the child onboard. I can, however, direct you toward a more open area.”

“Flight mode?” Steve piped up.

“Let’s do it, then.”

A screen on the dashboard flickered to life with a GPS and Tony set the car in reverse, resetting his mirrors as he turned out of the cabin’s driveway to roar out of the jungle. At first, the drive was smooth, but at a few soft pops, Tony looked at Steve through the rearview mirror, catching the familiar creased-brow look.

“Gunshots,” Steve said, echoing the other’s thought.

“We’re bulletproof, so it shouldn’t matter,” Tony murmured, “J, we got bogeys?”

“Scanning—you have four vehicles converging on your location, Sir. Two have larger heat signatures.”

Tony cursed under his breath and slammed on the accelerator, shifting into fourth then fifth gear as he sped along.

“Cap, you better hold that boy like you’re carrying the Holy Grail, got it? It’s about to get a little rough,” he said, watching two goons on motorbikes roar up on either side of him.

Careful of the trees, Tony swerved through the jungle as they moved, trying to lose them in the thicket. Realizing that it wasn’t working, he took a breath and angled for a line of trees, focusing despite Steve’s shouts of warning. Right before they hit, Tony shifted into third and slammed on the brakes, skidding into a 180 before shifting back into fifth and roaring off. He whooped as he watched the motorbikes crash into the trees, successfully taking down two of the four.

“Recalculating,” JARVIS said.

“Tony,” Steve said warningly, sounding a little out of breath, “Be _careful_.”

“I’m trying to not get us killed, now be quiet,” Tony answered.

“Make your closest right-hand turn,” JARVIS said.

Trusting the AI’s directions, Tony banked right, crashing through bushes as he drove. He grit his teeth, watching two blinking red dots move up onto the GPS. However, when looking in his mirrors, he couldn’t see any vehicles. He quickly tilted his side mirror up, groaning softly at skyriders above them.

“What?” Steve asked, not missing the noise, “What is it?”

“Riders,” Tony answered, nearly the end of the thicket, “Listen, when we break clear, duck down. You got it? And make sure you both are strapped in. Keep your shield on your back.”

“If you do something stupid—”

“Now, Steve!” Tony yelled, breaking out of the jungle and into the clear.

Tony shifted again, this time slamming his fist down on top of the stick shift. The car roared louder as reactor-powered engines sped them over 200 miles an hour toward a hill. Tony weaved to dodge the rain of bullets coming down, accelerating as much as he could as they flew up the hill. Once they got air, the tires retracted and flattened, whirring to life as they doubled as large rotary turbines, allowing for takeoff.

Tony whooped again and spun the vehicle around, pressing buttons like he was playing Pac-Man to bring up and fire the vehicle’s machine guns. Thankfully, JARVIS’ auto-aim system made the fight easy, and it only took a few seconds before the riders fell from the sky.

“Alright, we’re okay,” He finally said, sitting back, “J, autopilot to the Tower. Fast as we can.”

“Of course, Sir. Approximately two hours until landing.”

Grunting, Tony swiveled his seat around to face Steve and PJ, a proud grin on his face. The Captain merely stared back at him, about to open his mouth and scold him when the boy clapped his hands eagerly.

“Again! Again!” He giggled, “ _Again_ , Daddy!”

“Yeah! That was really fun, wasn’t it, peanut butter cup?” Tony laughed, pulling PJ into his lap with a huge grin, “We’ll go again later, sweetheart. After Papa has time to yell at me for saving his—him. Saving _him_.”

“Oh my god,” Steve sighed, putting his head in his hands, “Rhodes is going to kill me.”

“He’s going to kill us both,” Tony said smugly, “But it was worth it. Isn’t that right, sweet pea?”

PJ giggled more, nodding as he bounced on Tony’s lap. He couldn’t help but smile down at the child, tucking a stray curl behind the boy’s ear. If he could keep that smile, that laugh, that _happiness_ on PJ’s face forever, goddammit, he was going to.

Even if that meant facing Rhodey’s—and eventually Steve’s—wrath.


	9. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being trapped in a hospital bed means talks have to ensue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd. Comments, kudos, and art really appreciated. You can ask me questions over at @avengersasssemble on tumblr.com.

Thankfully, the ride back to the Tower was mostly uneventful, other than the lectures from Steve about being more careful, and the panicked calls from Rhodey and Pepper about leaving (Rhodey) and being gone (Pepper). PJ kept his little face pressed to the windows as they traveled, eyes wide as he watched the ground speed by below them.

“I cannot believe you pulled that stunt,” Steve was grousing again, his arms folded over his chest as he watched PJ to make sure the child didn’t try to open the doors, “You could have gotten us killed.”

“But I _didn’t_ , Captain Crunch, I got us out of there safely—”

“Maybe so, but you left Clint and Rhodey behind—”

“Rhodey has the War Machine suit and Clint has ridden bi—on the suit’s back for long periods of time!” Tony complained, “Plus, they’ll get a lift back home from SHIELD once they take care of the base. C’mon, Steve, we had to g—”

He stopped mid-sentence to hiss softly, his right hand involuntarily going to press against his left side. Panting softly, Tony shook his head as the sharp pain dulled, leaning back in his chair to ignore Steve’s amped up look of concern.

“I’m fine. Just—just my bruising from the captivity,” he explained, wheezing a bit, “Broke some ribs, that’s all.”

“Tony—”

“Really. I can last until we get back and get to medical, jeez,” Tony grunted, only to wheeze again as PJ finally pulled himself from the glass and crawled into Tony’s lap, “Hey, kiddo.”

“Daddy?” He asked softly, tucking his thumb into his mouth.

“I’m alright, sweet thing,” Tony soothed through grit teeth, “Just a little achy. Why don’t you sit with Papa, hm? He’s much comfier.”

PJ shook his head, wiggling himself back against Tony’s chest. His eyes bugged from the pressure on his ribs, but he managed to not shout, breathing heavily through his nose as an alternative.

“Peter, come here. I want hugs,” Steve said, holding his arms out.

PJ gave him a suspicious look, but he obeyed, leaving Tony’s lap to crawl into Steve’s arms. Relieved of the pressure, Tony opened his mouth to let out a silent scream, turning his chair back around so the others couldn’t see how pained he actually was.

“You’re going to straight to medical when we get back.”

“I know that, Captain Obvious. Would you leave me alone, for like, ten seconds? I’d appreciate not being raked over the coals for saving your life.”

It was quiet again, and Tony took the opportunity to look out of the window, watching the fields and trees roll below them. There was a sigh from the backseat, which nearly made him turn around to start another shouting match, but he kept his mouth clamped shut, deciding to be the bigger person.

“I am glad you think up ways to get us out of bad situations. I just wish you saw how you threw others under the bus to get us _into_ those situations.”

Tony thunked his head back against the headrest of his chair, sighing in loud annoyance to steel himself from turning around to give Steve a piece of his mind.

“The child is our priority, first and foremost. We’re all adults, but he is _not_. I don’t know what Zola did to him while I was passed out, so we’re taking him to medical to get checked out. That’s the responsible thing to do, and you know it, so drop it,” he eventually snapped, looking into the rearview mirror to make eye contact with the Captain.

Steve at least had the decency to look a bit ashamed, so Tony took that as a win, readjusting himself in his chair as he tried to alleviate the pain in his ribs. Once the New York skyline came into view, he sighed softly and let JARVIS take them through landing, grunting with each jolt of the car.

“Alright. You’re carrying him,” Tony said once he forced himself out of the car, swallowing a pained groan so he could walk around to open the passenger door to let the other two out.

“Should I carry you as well?” Steve asked, a completely serious look on his face, “You’re clearly in pain, Tony.”

“I’m fine,” he bit back, forcing a smile on his face as PJ teetered out of the car, stumbling a bit before running over to grab onto to his pant leg, “Hello, small bean. Papa’s going to carry you for a bit, okay?”

PJ huffed and shook his head, making his hair fall into his face. He pushed it back with a grunt, tugging on Tony’s pants again. Feeling his heart pull a little, Tony slowly reached down to card his fingers through the boy’s hair, shaking his head.

“Sorry, peanut. I can’t right now. Soon, okay?” He promised, “How about you hold my hand instead? We have to go back down to the funny smelling place so I can get checked out.”

Once he held his hand out, PJ griped but slid his tiny hand into Tony’s palm, slipping his other hand’s thumb into his mouth. With Steve trailing behind them, the trio slowly made their way to the elevator down to the medbay. Thankfully, once the doors opened to the familiar hallway, there was already a nurse waiting with a bed, to which Tony sent off a silent thank you to JARVIS for thinking ahead. Carefully, and with Steve’s help, he got up onto the bed, not realizing how terrible he actually felt until he was laying down.

“Do a blood draw,” he said to the nurse, ignoring Steve’s look, “Send it to Dr. Banner, tell him to look for any sort of bacterial or viral strain or evidence of opiodic contamination.”

She nodded, and once Tony had been moved into a private room, she began the diagnostics, only to have Tony wave for her to stop.

“Steve, can you take him out for a bit? I don’t—”

“Yeah, of course,” Steve interrupted, trying to prevent PJ from scrambling up onto the bed, “C’mon, kid. Let’s give Daddy a little bit of privacy for a second, hm?”

Just as he managed to get his arms around the boy, PJ let out an ear-splitting scream, fat tears starting to roll down his face once he realized he was being taken away. Steve winced at the noise but didn’t let go, carrying the thrashing child out of the room. As soon as they were gone, Tony turned to the nurse, nodding for her to continue.

“Better go as fast as you can, I don’t know how long he’ll be able to—ah, _fuck_ ,” he cursed as she ran fingers over the deep bruising on his side, “Broken ribs, definitely broken—”

“I think you might have a hematoma,” she said, “It looks worse than a regular blood bruise. I’ll have someone come in and look at it, but I think we might have to drain it and keep an eye on it.”

“Great,” Tony groused, staring at the tiled ceiling.

He closed his eyes as he was fretted over, still hearing PJ’s screaming from somewhere down the hall. The sound made his gut curl in on itself, ramping up to the point of nausea. Feeling sick, Tony had to force his eyes open, realizing that the nausea was probably due to the foul antiseptic smell that permeated the room.

“Okay, I’m going to go grab a doc. You sit tight,” the nurse finally said, scribbling on her chart, “I’m also going to let the Captain back in if that’s alright.”

“Yeah. Yes, please do,” he said wearily.

Blinking slowly, Tony watched the nurse leave, listening to the sound of PJ’s screaming dwindle as the pounding of footsteps came up the hallway. It didn’t take long for the child to appear in the doorway, his face blotchy and eyes rimmed red from crying. He scrambled over to the bed, sniffling as he tried to climb up.

“Hey, hey, everything’s okay, pumpkin,” Tony soothed, reaching over to pet PJ’s hair, “You can’t come up yet, I’m sorry, but I’m right here. I’m okay, darling. Where’s Papa, hm? You chase him off?”

He looked up, but Steve was noticeably absent. Something that felt like _I knew this would happen, but not this soon_ settled in his chest, so Tony forced a smile onto his face, changing his mind.

“Alright, little caterpillar, let’s get you up here,” he decided selfishly, using one arm to heft the lightweight child up onto the bed.

Immediately, PJ attached himself to Tony’s side, curling up to him with a sniffle. His tiny hand grabbed tight to Tony’s shirt, shaking a little with the force.

“Hey, hey now, I’m right here,” Tony soothed, rubbing circles onto the tot’s back, “You’re okay, honey. You’re safe. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Apparently, not for a while, either.”

Looking up, a beaming grin broke out over Tony’s face at seeing Bruce walk in, a lab coat fitted snugly over his shoulders.

“Oh, it is so good to see you, Brucey bear,” he crooned, letting PJ turn around to watch the scientist come and sit at his bedside, “I thought you might’ve been doing cleanup at the base.”

“Nah. Thor went, so I decided to stay back and wait for you,” Bruce replied with a smile, “That, and I wanted to check on PJ, as well.”

“Yeah. He’ll need a draw,” Tony sighed, running his fingers through the child’s tangled locks, “I was unconscious for an undetermined period of time before they let me see him, so I don’t know what they did to him, if anything. He hasn’t complained about hurting or anything, but then again, I don’t know if he’d even tell us if it hurt. J hasn’t set off the alarm for bugging yet, so I’m hoping we can assume they didn’t put any tracker on him…but I want to be sure, y’know?”

Bruce nodded, holding his hand out as PJ reached out to try and grab at his coat. He couldn’t help but smile fondly at the child, letting him play with the cuff.

“Of course. I’ll let the techs know,” he said, “Anything else you want to talk about?”

Tony paused at that, raising an eyebrow at the other.

“What, pray tell, does _that_ mean?”

“Nothing. I’m just asking if everything’s alright.”

“I thought you weren’t that kind of doctor.”

“I’m not, but I’m trying to be that kind of friend.”

Tony narrowed his eyes at that, but he huffed and relented, adjusting himself to be a little more comfortable before turning his head to see Bruce at a better angle.

“For the most part, it was fine,” he started, “Other than the getting banged up. However, Zola was intent on having us shipped out to a different location for testing. I’m hoping that Nat will bring back enough information that J can do a scan and get us some coordinates. Getting out of there was a bit of a fickle. Rhodey didn’t tell me it was him jailbreaking us, so I figured we were just running for our lives until Clint and Steve showed up. I collapsed somewhere in the middle of it all, and woke up at your—”

“—safe house, yeah,” Bruce nodded, “And after that?”

“Rhodey had patched me up. One of the stupid agents took out my chip, so we need to put a new one in somewhere. Probably my thigh. Anyway. Steve got us fed, and because I’m worried that something invasive or whatever happened to PJ, I made him leave with me in the Avengecar. Quincar. It flies.”

Tony waved his hand, pushing the name aside as he coughed slightly, grunting at the force.

“We took down a few guys and got out of there. And then I got to have nice Captain America lectures the entire ride home,” he summarized, “And he left. He helped me down here and is just…gone. I think PJ screaming freaked him out. Plus, super soldier hearing, and all that.”

“Anything else happen? With Steve?” Bruce prompted, giving Tony a knowing look.

“Uh. We talked a bit. I’m going to take him to see Aunt Peg,” he said sheepishly, shrugging at Bruce’s stare, “What? It’s the least I could do. He’s been having trouble lately. I think it could be good for him. Some closure.”

“Wow. I mean, you’re right, it may help, but wow, Tony. I thought the whole telling Steve about Margaret even _being_ your stand-in aunt was off limits?” Bruce said, looking at Tony from over the top of his glasses.

Tony flushed a bit and shrugged, not quite meeting Bruce’s eyes.

“He…we had a moment,” he decided on, only to quickly switch topics, “Anyway. Do you think you could help with PJ’s draw and examination? He’s a …a bit wary of the SHIELD docs. Not that I blame him.”

“Of course,” Bruce answered slowly, raising an eyebrow, “Do you want me to get Steve? Or at least find out where he went?”

Tony shook his head, watching as PJ lost interest in Bruce’s coat and returned to Tony’s side.

“He probably went to the gym. He’s frustrated that he was wrong for once,” he snorted, carefully putting his arm around PJ to rub the boy’s back, “Actually, do you think you could send Rhodey down whenever he gets back? It's looking like I’m going to be here for a bit. Oh, god, wait, PJ needs a bag too, since he’s most likely not going to leave my side, but I took his elephant with us when we went for our stroll and then got kidnapped—”

“Tony. It’s okay,” Bruce said gently, putting a hand on Tony’s arm, “We recovered the elephant. He’s in PJ’s room, all nice and cleaned. I’ll go get stuff put in motion, then be down later to help with PJ, okay? Now you, young man, you be good for your Daddy, okay?”

PJ gave Bruce a side eye, only to snuggle more into Tony’s side and clutch at his shirt. Tony couldn’t help but laugh, immediately wincing at the pain that shot up his side. With a sympathetic look, Bruce patted Tony’s arm and stood, making his way out of the room.

“Looks like its just you and me, kiddo,” Tony murmured, petting the boy’s hair, “Sorry Papa up and left like that. I won’t do that to you, I promise. Now come up here, I can’t lean down, and I want to kiss your forehead.”

PJ looked up at Tony, but he seemed to understand, sitting up so Tony could carefully lean forward to smooch his temple. The boy carefully cuddled himself up to Tony again, a small sniffle escaping him as he tucked his face into Tony’s shirt.

“Oh, honey, don’t cry,” Tony pleaded, not sure if he could handle an outburst, “Please? Everything’s okay, Petey pie. I promise.”

As he hugged the boy tight, Tony watched as SHIELD personnel filed into the room, bringing a tray of equipment with them. One of them started to talk about the drainage process, but Tony waved them quiet and carefully rolled onto his right side, giving PJ a small smile as the medical team started to work.

“Hey, just look at me, okay? Everything’s alright,” He soothed, barely wincing as the syringe for numbing went in, “I’m going to be in tip-top shape real soon, then we can go upstairs, have some food, and maybe lay down for a book and a nap. How does that sound? You probably need a bath, too.”

Tony babbled to PJ through the procedure, eventually sighing in relief as the pressure in his side subsided. The babe gave him a curious look but didn’t say anything, opting instead to slip his thumb into his mouth.

“Okay Mr. Stark, you can roll back over,” one of the nurses said, helping Tony to get adjusted, “Now, could you lean forward?”

Tony grunted and did as he was asked, letting the nurse bandage his chest up, careful to avoid the arc reactor. He grunted a bit at the new pressure, but the familiarity of having set ribs at least eased his mind.

“Thanks, guys,” he said to the doctors as they packed up and left, one of them advising he stay in bed for at least one day before going back up, “Yep, got it. Thanks.”

Usually, he tried to escape medical at all costs, but drainage was never fun, and he was still recuperating from his other injuries, so staying in place was a-okay. That, and it meant Steve would have to seek _him_ out, so he had an excuse for not immediately going to find him.

“Daddy?”

Oh no.

“Yes, pumpkin pie?” Tony asked, only to have PJ’s stomach growl in the middle of his sentence, “…Oh. Yeah. Okay. J? Could you—damn it—could you ask Steve to bring down an overnight bag for PJ and food for him?”

“Captain Rogers is already on his way,” JARVIS relayed.

Tony blinked in surprise, but sure enough, a freshly showered Steve walked through the door with a large bag slung over his shoulder and PJ’s elephant and sippy cup clutched in his hand.

“Sorry. Didn’t want to contaminate anything, so I sent PJ in and went to get changed,” he apologized before Tony could talk, setting down the things on the side table as he scooped PJ up from the bed, “Let’s go, you. Bathroom, then food and elephant, okay?”

Tony watched with an open mouth as PJ settled in Steve’s arms, letting the blond take him into the bathroom without a fuss.

“What? What just happened?” he mumbled to himself, “What did they put in that numbing? I’m not imagining this, right? He totally didn’t just go quietly.”

“He did, and its because he’s been in his uncomfortable pull-ups since the safe house,” Steve called from the bathroom.

_Oh. Right._

Tony settled back against his pillows, making himself comfortable while keeping an eye on the bathroom door. After a few minutes, Steve emerged with PJ, who looked a bit happier and eagerly toddled over to try and climb back up onto the bed.

“No, no, you’re in my lap for now,” Steve said, dragging the bag of things over before snatching PJ up, handing him his elephant and sippy cup before sitting down in the chair next to Tony’s bed.

PJ gave Steve a suspicious look, but chose to drink from his cup and lean back against Steve’s chest. Tony watched them with his jaw unhinged, shaking his head when Steve raised an eyebrow.

“What? I can—I can do this parenting thing,” He protested, keeping one arm curled around PJ so the boy wouldn’t fall, “Besides, you’re hurt—”

“I can take care of him if I’m hurt, but I appreciate the help,” Tony interrupted, seeing the gesture as a half-apology, “Thank you, Steve.”

That seemed to satiate the Captain, so Tony relaxed a little, content to watch PJ noisily suck down what he presumed was juice, eyes flickering back and forth between the two men. He gave Tony a look, then proceeded to offer his sippy cup to him, sticking his thumb in his mouth.

“Oh, no, honey, you drink that,” Tony laughed softly, unable to help his fond smile, “They’ll bring me stuff later. You need to eat, too. I’m hoping Papa didn’t bring you just juice.”

“Of course not. I’ve got snacks and food in the bag,” Steve said, watching as Tony reached over the bed to pet PJ’s hair, “I figured juice would make him sleepy though and considering what went down, he probably didn’t get a nap like he’s supposed to have.”

Tony raised an eyebrow at that, but nodded, humming in agreement.

“Someone did their homework,” he said, carefully taking PJ’s thumb from his mouth to poke the sippy cup back in.

He flicked his eyes up to Steve in time to see the blond shrug, the light flush on his cheeks not going unnoticed. However, Tony kept that to himself, not wanting to accidentally embarrass Steve any more than he already had. Instead, he let his eyes drift over the Captain’s face, mentally cataloging the tired creases in the corners of his eyes and the laugh lines that stretched with a fond smile as he looked down at the clearly exhausted child. The picture was oddly Madonna-like, though Tony felt like he should probably go to confessional for comparing Steve to the Virgin Mary.

“Dah,” PJ’s voice said, mumbled behind his sippy cup.

“Yes, darling?” Tony asked, brushing his knuckles down the child’s face, “You sleepy?”

The boy nodded, and with Steve’s help, got himself comfortable in the hospital bed, tucked in next to Tony. His elephant was clutched tight to his chest, nearly taking up as much room as the child was, but Tony paid it no mind, pulling the sheets up over them both.

“Poor kid,” he whispered once PJ was asleep, “He’s had some rough couple days.”

“I’d say,” Steve said quietly, propping his arms up on the side of the bed, “He needs a proper bath. But sleep is more important than that right now.”

“Yeah. Sleep and food,” Tony murmured, “Hopefully he’ll sleep through the night tonight since he’ll be with me.”

“You sure?”

Tony turned to give Steve a look, pursing his lips and raising one delicate eyebrow.

“Of course,” he answered, “I’m not about to leave him alone again, and you pulling him away from me for less than a minute made him go berserk. I’m okay with co-sleeping for the time being. He has a pull-up on, right? It’s fine.”

Steve sighed, uncharacteristically not arguing with him. Instead, he sat back, picking up the bag off of the floor to rummage through it.

“I brought his Iron Man pajamas,” he said flatly, showing them to Tony before rifling through the bag again, “There are some snacks in here, but I’m sure the nurses can bring food that you can feed to him. I packed the baby utensils he’s supposed to use, plus a bib, and there’s cleaning supplies—”

“Steve,” Tony interrupted gently, reaching over the bed to curl his hand around the Captain’s wrist, “Just ask the staff to bring a second bed. You can stay.”

The Captain paused, his hands stilling in the bag as Tony’s words washed over him. He looked up, painfully obvious hope spreading over his features.

“Are—are you sure? I don’t want to get in the way,” he said softly, showing his nervous tick by picking at his nails, “I mean, you two probably need time to recuperate—”

“It’s okay, Steve. Really,” Tony said plainly, letting go of Steve’s wrist, “He likes it when you’re here. And—and the company’s nice. Really. Plus, I’m supposed to be stuck in bed, and he’ll need you to take him to the bathroom and play with him.”

Steve froze, but then nodded, setting the bag back onto the floor before nervously playing with his hands again. Tony took notice and sighed, gently grabbing both of Steve’s hands with one of his own.

“Steve,” he said quietly, “Are you alright?”

Steve looked up with an odd emotion plastered across his face, like something between guilt and constipation. Tony merely raised an eyebrow, patiently waiting for the Captain to reply.

“Yeah. I guess. We, ah, our conversation never—before you left,” Steve tried, fumbling for words, “When I made PJ upset on accident. We—I didn’t—”

Tony squeezed Steve’s hands, trying to give him a comforting look. PJ shifted on the bed, so they stayed quiet for a moment, waiting for the boy’s soft snoring to pick back up.

“It’s okay. Though I might not be in the best mind right now, we can continue where we left off,” Tony said, daring to stroke his thumb over the Captain’s knuckles, “It was something about you having a massive crush on me and then avoiding me like the plague, yes?”

Steve’s blush rose onto his cheeks and the tips of his ears, making him hot enough to let go of Tony’s hand to rub the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Well, in my defense, I was trying to not seem imposing or anything. I mean, gosh, Tony. You’re—you’re _you_. In general, most people are nervous to be around you, just because you have such an expansive personality and light up the room—”

“Are you sure you want to stroke my ego this much?” Tony laughed softly, his eyes twinkling with mischief, “Though I’m not necessarily _opposed_ to it…”

“Shut up,” Steve grumbled, folding his arms over his chest, “I’m trying to make a point. Coming from someone who lives a generally sparse, reserved life, people who fill a room when they walk in kind of make fellas like me a little nervous. I mean, I’m self-aware of it, considering my physical…size…tends to attract attention. I’m still this little scrapper from Brooklyn, and having _feelings_ for some big-timer is—”

“Scary?” Tony said, turning onto his side as PJ curled up to him, reaching up to tug on his shirt over his reactor, “Yeah. I kinda get that. Though, I mean, you’re _you_. You think I’m some big shot? Have you _seen_ yourself? You’ve survived so much and been so _good_ —not necessarily good versus bad, but more of good versus evil, y’know? Even when it gets you into trouble, you hold your ground. Like Aunt Peg used to say, right? You have a duty to root yourself and say—”

“No, you move,” Steve murmured, ducking his head to try and hide the bright red flush that dipped down to his neck, “Yeah. I think she was just trying to make my stubbornness into a good quality, though. I have a tendency to do that.”

“That doesn’t make it a bad thing, necessarily,” Tony continued, reaching back over to rest a hand on Steve’s knee, “Sometimes, maybe. But it means you give a damn. I’d rather someone have a stance than have no stance at all. Anyway, what I’m getting at is that you’ve really—you’ve always been a hero. Even when you barely scraped by at ninety pounds soaking wet. And for someone who kind of—who had to become something even bigger than myself to be that—you’re intimidating. Not that I’d admit that to anyone else.”

Steve gently took hold of Tony’s hand between his own two, looking up under his long lashes to give him a small smile.

“Tony, you were a hero long before you were Iron Man,” Steve said softly, “Sure, you may not have had the suit, but you were still Tony Stark. And yes, I realize you may not necessarily like that, but it’s true. You have always been a good man, Tony. Your origin story was just a lot more complex than most. And that’s okay.”

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Tony offered a brittle smile, letting Steve squeeze his hands.

“Thanks, Cap. I appreciate it,” he murmured, ignoring how feeble he sounded, “Really. It means—it means a lot to me.”

“You don’t have to believe me,” Steve barreled on, a knowing look on his face, “But I just see a brilliant, young science whiz who managed to build himself the most _incredible_ machines. Saving the world is just one of the many things on your already impressive resume. And, Tony—you’d still be a hero without the suit. You were a hero when you got out from under Howard, you were a hero when you built Dum-E and JARVIS, and you were a hero when you saw what was happening in Afghanistan and stopped it. You didn’t need, and you don’t need, the suit. I mean, it’s very nice, but you are the real hero. I mean, people don’t steal you away from me to get to the suit. They try to get you because you’re _you_.”

“Away from you?” Tony said in amusement, grinning as Steve’s eyes widened once he realized what he’d said, “But—ah, thank you. I—yeah. I know sometimes I struggle with that whole thing. I’m getting better at it. But it’s good to know that someone’s in my corner.”

“I’m always here for you, Anthony,” Steve said seriously, forcing himself to meet Tony’s eyes, “I promise. Til the end of the line.”

“Oh, so now ya bringing other people onta that train?”

Steve jumped back and Tony laughed at the other’s embarrassment at being caught, unsuccessfully stifling his giggles into his arm. Unimpressed, Bucky, Clint, and Natasha walked in, the former cuffing Steve on the back of the head.

“Oh, give him a break. He’s just trying to be kind,” Natasha said, elbowing Bucky’s side to make him grunt, “Besides, I think we just ruined the moment for them.”

“Kind of, yeah,” Tony admitted with a hum, “And you woke the kid.”

PJ glared at Bucky from where he was tucked into Tony’s side, only to turn his gaze toward Natasha. He smiled bashfully, putting his face back into Tony’s side when she waved at him.

“I still don’t get why he likes you the best,” Clint sighed, sitting down in one of the hospital chairs, “I mean, I’m clearly the cool one. I can juggle. Why aren’t I the favorite?”

“He’s a redhead person. Just is,” Tony shrugged, rolling his eyes as PJ peeked out again to look at Natasha, “Natty, dear—”

She sighed with a smile and moved forward to pick up PJ, cocking a hip so the boy could rest on it. He quickly snuggled up to her, putting his thumb in his mouth before ducking his face into her neck.

“Cute, Tasha,” Bucky said, making himself comfortable on Steve’s lap despite the Captain’s grunt, “You’d look good with kids.”

“Are you saying that because I’m a woman or because you’re suggesting something?”

Bucky flushed and grunted at that, making the others laugh. He pouted and crossed his arms, to which Steve consolingly patted his arm.

“Okay, well, you three interrupted our nice talk and rest time, so what do you want?” Tony sighed, making himself comfortable on his pillows again.

We’ve got information from Zola,” Clint answered, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, “Some good news, some bad news.”

“Good news first,” Steve decided.

“Good news is that there aren’t any other living subjects, like PJ,” the archer said, “We managed to find written documentation of each of the subjects they created, and the only surviving one from those documents is PJ. There were traces of electronic records, but from what we’ve seen so far, they don’t have anything to do with this piece of the project.”

Tony raised an eyebrow at that.

“But?” He said.

“Bad news is that the documentation is over eight thousand pages long,” Clint said, his hands clenching, “Some of the subjects only take up half of a page.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Language.”

“You don’t even go to mass anymore, Rogers.”

“It’s the _principle_ , and there is a child present.”

Tony sighed extra loudly at that, rolling his eyes.

“Focus,” Natasha interrupted as she started to bounce PJ on her hip, “Right now the subject count is estimated to be around six-point-five thousand.”

“Well, fuck,” Steve said.

“Oh, so you yell at _me_ —”

“ _Focus_ , children,” Bucky repeated, folding his arms over his chest, “Regardless of the actual count, it's still a high number. But it does mean we have physical records of what HYDRA did. However…we’re having trouble pinning down Zola or any of his high-up cronies to try and bring them in for charges. So far, we’ve just got word on movements, and even then, it's sparse.”

“Zola should be transported on a flash drive,” Tony said, stroking his goatee as he thought, “Considering he doesn’t have a physical body, and that Cap kinda took out the original conscious in New Jersey, I’m assuming that’s how HYDRA has been keeping him semi-alive. From what I saw on the inside, once he gets into a computer system, he can jump at will to any connecting hardware. However, I don’t think he can get into the internet. The amount of upload power needed for an entire brain complex is…a lot. Not enough from what I saw at the base. If that’s an endgame, and I suspect it is, he’ll need a supercomputer.”

“Why would he want to do that?” Steve asked, idly tapping Bucky’s leg, “He’s bent on creating a new wave of super soldiers, and it failed. I figured he’d go into hiding again.”

“It didn’t fail,” Tony said quietly, “He has one success. And from Bucky’s insight into the Winter Soldier program, it's technically possible that Zola could, if he got his hands on the kid, reprogram him with a chip that could be accessed wirelessly. And if Zola got into the internet…”

The room was silent as they all looked at the child perched on Natasha’s hip. PJ yawned and stretched before tucking himself back into her neck, a peaceful look on his little face.

“So… what do we do?” Clint eventually asked, looking around the room.

“We stay one step ahead. Zola needs a supercomputer to access the internet for whatever world domination, but he also wants PJ back to create his soldiers,” Steve answered, “So what if he could get both at once?”

“Right. We need to be diligent. I’m going to upload FRIDAY and JOCASTA into the mainframe to add another two layers of security, just in case,” Tony said, nodding, “I’ll have Pepper run more thorough background checks and have my current employees go through re-checks.”

“I can get SHIELD to do the same,” Natasha agreed, looking over at Clint, “We’ll keep Fury in the loop, but only need-to-know.”

“And what about PJ?” Bucky asked, motioning with his head toward the child, “You already got grabbed once, just outside the Tower.”

“Staying put is the best for now,” Steve replied as Tony frowned, “It's better to have most of the team around us for backup, just in case.”

“You don’t want to split us up? Then they’d have to focus their firepower on two places, rather than just one,” He murmured, looking over at the Captain, “You sure you want us all on one big target?”

“I think both are viable options,” Natasha said, “But Tony, you need to recover. None of us are going to let you back into the field in your current condition, and since you are PJ’s main caretaker, he goes where you go.”

At the mention of his name, the boy poked his head up and made a reach for Tony. Natasha carefully put him back down on the bed; he grabbed up his elephant as he scrambled to Tony’s side, tucking himself underneath Tony’s arm.

“Then we stay for now. We monitor, and we remain diligent,” Steve assessed, earning nods from the group, “Spread the plan to the team. I also want constant guards with Tony and PJ. If not one of us four, someone else on the team, but only from the team. We don’t know Zola’s breaching capabilities. Not that I doubt your abilities, Tony, but I don’t want to underestimate Zola.”

“Babysitter. Great,” Tony sighed, wincing as he shifted.

“Don’t worry, I can take the first shift.”

“Rhodey?” Tony grinned as the Colonel strode into the room, only to wince as he sat forward, “I thought you’d have headed back to the Airforce to debrief with them.”

“I’m not done with you all yet, so no, I’m here as War Machine until further notice,” Rhodey replied, clapping a hand on Steve’s shoulder to keep the Captain seated as the others moved to leave, “I figured you’d want some help, and you never _formally_ introduced me to your tiny spawn.”

“That is probably the worst way you could have phrased it,” he sighed, rolling his eyes, “But I _guess_. You remember Rhodey, right baby? Hm? Think you can look up for me?”

Tony gently prodded PJ, peeling the child away from his side. The babe huffed, but turned his mismatched gaze up to Rhodey, blinking up at him with some hesitation.

“Hey there, big guy. I helped you and your dad back in the awful place, remember?” Rhodey said gently, sitting down on Tony’s bed, “I’ve heard so much about you. You like Captain America, huh?”

PJ flicked his gaze over to Steve for a second before ducking his head back into Tony’s side, causing him to giggle.

“He’s shy. But you’re not wrong,” Tony said, rubbing PJ’s back to try and comfort him, “He loves his Cap pajamas.”

“Ah, yeah, I think I’m going to head out, leave you guys to the family stuff,” Steve said uncomfortably, rising from his chair.

Rhodey leveled a look at him, causing Steve to slowly sink back down into his chair. After a nod, Rhodey turned back to Tony, a smirk stretched out over his lips.

“I hate that look. Don’t give me that look.”

“It’s not a look.”

“It is one _hundred_ percent a look, honeybear. I know what that look means, too, and _no_. I’m not talking about it.”

“Why not?”

“Whaddya mean, why not? You know _exactly_ why not.”

“I’m confused,” Steve interrupted, causing Tony to look away to not make eye contact, “Is something wrong?”

“No,” Tony answered.

“Yes,” Rhodey answered right overtop of Tony.

 _Despite all you’ve done for me, my sweet, sweet blueberry muffin, I kind of want to kill you right about now_.

“Tony just—get _off_ of me, lay back down, you maniac—Tony was just going to tell me about when you two started boinking,” Rhodey explained, holding his finger out toward Tony to get him to stay down.

“ _Boinking_?” Tony shrieked, attempting to ignore the dark red flush that covered Steve’s face and neck, “We—we are not—that is the _worst_ word you could have used, what era is this, the nineteen sixties? We are _not_ sleeping together. I think I would know if we were.”

“Uh, we aren’t—we aren’t romantically involved, Colonel,” Steve said plainly, not quite meeting either of the men’s gazes, “Tony’s made—his intentions are pretty clear that he wants to keep things platonic between us, and I respect that.”

_…What?_

“What?” Tony repeated out loud, genuinely confused by the admission.

“You—is that not how you feel?” Steve asked, mirroring Tony’s confusion, “You—I mean, we talked a bit, but you seemed to be saying that you just—that you _knew_ I had feelings and didn’t reciprocate them.”

“Oh, so you didn’t bother to tell the guy you’ve been in love with him for years?” Rhodey said flatly, still staring at Tony.

“ _Rhodey_ ,” Tony hissed, “Now is _not_ the time.”

“I think it is,” Steve murmured, wringing his hands between his knees.

Rhodey motioned to Steve with his hand, giving Tony his I-told-you-so face.

“Look, I only _just_ found out Steve liked me back, give me a break,” Tony scowled, folding his arms over his chest, “Besides, I’m not exactly the _best_ at relationships, and I wasn’t about to break _Steve Rogers_ of all people. Could you imagine if we broke up?”

“Not really,” Rhodey hummed, “I think you and Steve would be good together. A bit explosive, but it would work.”

“Not to mention the sex,” Steve muttered under his breath.

His eyes widened when he realized he’d said it aloud: Tony felt his jaw drop, and Rhodey couldn’t help but laugh, smacking his knee as the sound reverberated throughout his body.

“Oh my god, you two are perfect, I _cannot_ wait to tell Pepper,” he wheezed, “She’s going to be so thrilled—ugh, but then T’Challa wins the pot—”

“The what?” Tony asked, snapping himself away from staring at Steve’s extremely flushed face.

“The betting pool on you two. Did they not tell you? We have a huge group bet as to when you two would get together,” Rhodey said slowly, looking at the two men, “…No? Okay. Well, you didn’t hear it from me, but I’m about a week out if you guys want to hold off that long.”

“You are the worst best friend I’ve ever had,” Tony said, grunting as Rhodey laughed again, “I’m _serious_ , I can’t believe you just waltzed in here like that—”

“Okay, to be fair, you didn’t tell me anything, and from what the others said, I really thought he knew and you were just beating yourself up until you eventually coaxed yourself out of even going for the relationship,” Rhodey explained gently, putting a hand on Tony’s knee, “Tones, dude, he’d be good for you. And maybe you could loosen him up a little.”

“Hell yeah I could,” Tony murmured, smirking at Rhodey’s pained look, “Yeah, you walked into that one.”

“Could we not make those comments when PJ is here?” Steve asked wearily, putting his head in his hands, “This is already embarrassing enough.”

“Hey. Look. You both have feelings for each other, and now you have the little guy to take care of. You might as well try it, because neither of you are getting any younger, and he’s going to need both of you. If you choose to just let it be, fine, but really. Do us all a favor and just—y’know. Stop making us all awkward with the sexual tension. Now, I’m going to go upstairs and gossip, and leave you two to do whatever,” Rhodey sighed, standing and brushing out his suit jacket, “And you, little man, are going to play with the train set I brought you later, okay? Be good for your dads.”

He tapped the bedrail next to PJ before heading out, leaving Tony and Steve fairly stunned in his wake. After a second, the child sat up with a whine, slipping his thumb into his mouth as he looked over at Steve pitifully.

“What’s wrong, son? It’s nearly time for you to eat a real meal. You hungry?” Steve asked, breaking the silence as he reached over the rail.

PJ shook his head, but he grabbed onto Steve’s hand, tugging it toward him. Steve cocked his head as PJ did it again, then blinked once the boy moved closer to Tony and tugged once more.

“You want me to come up? Buddy, I don’t think I can fit up there,” Steve said gently, making a face at Tony’s smirk, “Tony, no. Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“ _Papa_ ,” PJ whined, long and drawn out as he bounced a bit on the bed.

Steve sighed and got up, moving over to the bed. He looked down at the two of them and shook his head, giving them both a fond smile.

“Fine. But I need you to move,” he said, hefting PJ up and depositing him on the end of the bed, “Stay.”

Tony tried to protest, but once Steve’s arms were under him, he felt himself involuntarily relaxing. Once he was shifted over, Steve picked PJ up again and settled them both next to Tony, then added the elephant to the family pile. Despite the size of the bed in relativity to the two men-plus-child-plus-elephant, Tony found himself being comfortable, with Steve’s shoulder pressed up tight to his own.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” he murmured, tilting his head to rest on the shoulder.

“Not at all,” Steve answered softly, “But I know you two are very important to me, and I wouldn’t give you guys up for anything. Heck, we’ve barely had PJ for a few days and I already feel that way.”

“Yeah, me too,” Tony agreed, reaching over to put his hand on PJ’s back to help the boy settle on Steve’s chest, “Me too.”

Another moment of silence passed, leaving Tony to think.

 _What if I mess this up? I promised—I won’t let Peter grow up in a broken home. I won’t let him go through anything like what I had to go through. God, I don’t want him to ever think he’s unloved or that he caused us to break up—if Steve and I broke up, would_ I _even be able to handle it? What would happen to the team? To the dynamic? God, I’d probably be kicked off the team—_

“Hey, Tony?” Steve asked softly.

“Mm?”

“I can feel you thinking.”

“Mm.”

“Hey.”

“What?”

It was quiet, so Tony moved his head, trying to look at Steve’s face.

“What?” he prompted again.

“I’m—thank you,” Steve whispered, ducking his head in turn to rest his forehead on the top of Tony’s head, “For at least hearing me out. Even if you decide you don’t want—or don’t want to try—that’s okay. Thank you for being there for me. You’ve always been a good friend to me.”

And in that moment, hearing how genuine and honest Steve was, combined with the small child fast asleep on his chest, clinging to his stuffed elephant for dear life, Tony could only find one phrase stuck in his genius brain.

_Well, fuck._


	10. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot to be said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd. Comments, kudos, and art really appreciated. You can ask me questions over at @avengersasssemble on tumblr.com.

Staying pressed up against Steve’s ridiculously muscular arm attached to his ridiculously muscular body in a very tiny hospital bed should have been a foreseeable problem for someone of his age, but Tony accepted the ache from being pressed up against the plastic rails of the bed and the hard muscle. Steve’s warmth more than made up for it, and now with PJ spread out over their laps to sleep, he felt no reason to try and shift. Instead, he carded his fingers through PJ’s hair, unable to help a smile when the child grunted and rolled over to press his face into Tony’s stomach.

“Hey, be careful,” Tony murmured, hissing as he adjusted and accidentally moved his ribs.

“Want me to move him?” Steve asked, “PJ—”

“No, no, he’s okay. Gimmie.”

Tony took the elephant from Steve and put it between his belly and PJ’s face, grinning as the boy grumbled again.

“Sorry, peaches. Some of us don’t exactly heal as quickly as you do,” he said, sighing softly at the fresh aches that kept up that reminder.

“Are you sure you’re alright? You’re wincing, Tony,” Steve said, shifting his body sideways despite PJ’s whines, “Is that better?”

Now that he wasn’t pressed up against the bars on the bed, Tony rolled his shoulders, wincing at the new ache that settled in the joints.

_Shit. Oh well._

“Yeah. Thank you,” he mumbled, a bit embarrassed.

“You should have said something.”

“I would have if I had wanted you to move.”

“Oh,” Steve said, a flush darkening his cheeks and the tips of his ears, “Sorry.”

Tony laughed at that, looking over at him with an amused smirk.

“It’s okay. You can cuddle me in a much larger bed once I’m good to leave,” he promised, his smirk widening as Steve’s blush traveled down to his neck again, “You aren’t that good at hiding embarrassment, are you?”

“Irish skin. Can’t help it. Bucky makes fun of me for it, too,” Steve sighed, wincing himself as he sat up, “God, these beds are uncomfortable. With the amount of money that goes through SHIELD, you’d think they could make a fund for comfortable beds.”

“With the amount of money that goes through SHIELD, you’d think I wouldn’t have to keep paying for cleanup damages.”

Steve rolled his eyes, scooting off of the bed with a sigh as he stretched out his arms.

“Where are you going?” Tony heard himself ask, watching Steve stand as a heaviness like a stone settled in his gut.

Steve merely tapped his left ear and pointed at the door, smirking as Bruce walked in with a tray. Tony exhaled loudly in relief when Steve sat down in one of the chairs next to the bed; Bruce stopped, looking between the two men before rolling his eyes and going over to Tony’s side.

“I’m not going to ask,” he said, setting the tray down on the end of the bed, “Can you wake PJ up? I need to do his draw so we can get the samples to processing.”

“Yup. Up and at ‘em, atom ant,” Tony said, poking PJ’s stomach, “Think you can stick your arm out for me, darling?”

The kid grunted but did as was asked, the tighter hold on his elephant not going unnoticed. Steve moved around the bed, crouching down as he rested his hand on PJ’s back.

“You’re okay. It’ll only take a few seconds,” he said gently.

Tony watched as PJ closed his eyes, not making a sound as Bruce quickly and expertly took a few vials of blood. An uncomfortable feeling wormed its way into Tony’s chest when the child didn’t seem to notice that Bruce had put the plaster on his arm, leaving his arm stretched out on the bed.

“Hey, it’s done. He’s not taking any more,” He murmured quietly, rubbing PJ’s arm, “You can take your arm back, sweetheart.”

PJ froze at that, confusion and relief flickering across his face as he pulled his arm back in to tuck under his body. Tony merely looked up and shared a look with Steve, seeing his concern mirrored on the Captain’s face.

“Do you think—Bruce,” he tried, fumbling for the right words, “Should we—y’know, ask him? About what happened?”

Tucking the vials into his lab coat, Bruce raised an eyebrow, glancing between them before settling on PJ’s curled up form.

“I think it’d be wisest to do it sooner rather than later, but you should probably have someone more qualified sitting in on it. Or, at least, do it somewhere where the cameras can accurately record facial expressions and bodily movements since he might not be comfortable with a stranger sitting with him and asking questions. If you want, I could try to set something up. Get the two of you some questions to ask him and all that,” he said slowly, sharing a look with Tony, “It might help with easing his panic…or, it might cause him to have worse panic from reliving whatever happened in the compound.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Tony replied guiltily, putting his hand on top of Steve’s on PJ’s back, “I don’t want—I don’t want him to suffer any, but I also know it’ll help us understand HYDRA’s intentions better if we have more information.”

“Of course, but let me talk with Natasha first. She may have recovered files about what happened to him specifically. I’m sure they kept extensive records of the testing they did on him, she just has to find it. I’ll ask around, see what the best foot forward is. Until then, you both need to rest.”

“Agreed,” Steve chimed in, sighing at Tony’s annoyed stare, “Tony, you have broken ribs, and we’re still making sure you don’t get an abscess at your drainage point. You don’t exactly have super healing, so you do need to take it easy. Even if it’s for a day.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Doesn’t mean I’m happy about it or that I’m not going to try and get to the workshop sometime when you all are asleep,” he pouted, folding his arms over his chest.

“Considering we decided to babysit you, and it's going to be with my super hearing, you’re not going anywhere.”

“You want to make that a bet?”

“Children,” Bruce interrupted, rolling his eyes, “Please. Just focus on making sure PJ gets through the next two nights, alright? And Tony, stay in your damn bed. The Other Guy isn’t happy you got hurt.”

Tony felt the familiar trickle of anxiety at the mention of the Hulk, but he outwardly pouted more, growling at Steve’s amused smile.

“Then I want Bucky to babysit me since Steve isn’t on my side,” he decided, smirking when Steve’s face fractionally dropped, “Yeah, that’s right. I’m trading you in for the shinier model.”

It was meant to be a joke, but Steve stood, sliding out his hand from between Tony’s hand and PJ’s back.

“Uh—right,” he said, looking at Tony but not quite making eye contact, “Bucky—the arm will be a good distraction for PJ. And maybe he can talk better to the kid about being under HYDRA’s hold. Good plan, Stark.”

Before he could apologize, Tony watched Steve walk out of the hospital room, leaving Bruce to glare down at the engineer. He tried to say something in his defense, but Bruce shook his head, taking _his_ leave without a word. He sighed and thumped his fist on the bed in frustration, running his hand through his hair.

“Shit,” he mumbled under his breath, looking sadly down at PJ, who was decidedly awake and seemed confused himself, “Don’t repeat that. They’ll kill me if you start saying bad words.”

The boy nodded, sitting up and tugging his elephant into a tight hug. He looked at the door where Steve had walked out, whimpering softly when Tony put a hand on his back.

“Sorry, buddy. I keep scaring him away from you, huh? I don’t mean to,” he apologized softly, attempting to keep PJ calm by rubbing circles on his back, “He’ll be back later. I think. I can have J ask him to come get you, okay? Do you wanna stay with Papa for a bit?”

Much to Tony’s surprise, PJ nodded, rolling himself onto his belly to slide onto the floor. Tony tried to make a grab for him but cried out in pain at moving his ribs, gritting his teeth when black spots danced in his vision.

“Whoa, Stark, take it easy,” Bucky’s voice filtered into his head as the man’s blurry face came into view, “Sit back. I’ll take him up to Steve. You need to rest. Don’t worry, we can handle the squirt for a bit.”

“He…Steve. Want Steve,” Tony slurred, suddenly feeling a lot older and a lot more tired as Bucky shifted him around on the bed, “Kid. Kid want Steve. Needs to be watched.”

“Yeah, I heard. I’ll take care of it. You focus that big brain of yours on getting healed up, alright?”

Tony managed an affirming noise, dumbly staring at Bucky as the soldier hefted PJ onto his hip and grabbed up the travel bag. PJ watched Tony over his shoulder and waved, and with a tired blink, they were gone, too. He sunk back into the soft pillows on his bed, fumbling for the bed control to lay himself down so he could stare at the ceiling. The soft beeping of the machines around him buzzed in his cranium, but it was nowhere near enough noise to keep him from thinking.

 _Good job, Stark, fucking offended him and scared him off again. You’re getting really good at pushing people away as an automatic defense mechanism. Hell, even your_ kid _doesn’t want to be around you, and so badly wanted to get away from you that he was willing to be picked up by the one person he’s shown any animosity toward. How does that make you feel?_

_…Nauseous._

Thankfully, the nurse had placed one of the room’s trashcans by the bed, close enough for Tony to lean over and retch into. He spit out the foul taste in his mouth with a groan, plucking off the sensors on his chest and the IV in his arm before heaving himself up out of the hospital bed to shuffle to the sink to wash out his mouth. Looking up into the mirror, he glazed over the bags under his eyes and the scratches on his face, reaching up to gently touch the butterfly bandages on one of the deeper wounds.

“You really outdid yourself this time, Stark,” he murmured to himself, attempting to crane his neck to see the stitching where his GPS chip used to be, “Real good job you did, asshole.”

He let his anger toward himself settle in his chest as he decided he was okay enough to move again, looting around the room for a moment until he found a bottle of aspirin tucked away in one of the cabinets. With a grunt of approval, he swallowed two pills dry and left the medical room, steadfastly ignoring the concerned calls of the nurses.

“JARVIS, my leaving the medbay doesn’t get to any of the team unless I say so, capiche?”

“As you wish, Sir.”

Tony stumbled into the elevator and called out to JARVIS to take him to the penthouse without stopping, slumping against the back wall with a soft groan. He needed his MIT hoodie that he’d stolen from Rhodey, an Irish coffee, and a nice few days of nonstop working to soothe his already heavily damaged self-worth.

However, when the elevator doors slid open to his floor, the first thing he heard was singing, and that pissed him off even more. He knew that either Bucky or Steve had to be the one down in PJ’s room, so he avoided it, heading straight for his own bedroom. Finding Rhodey’s hoodie, Tony shoved it on and grabbed some fluffy socks, putting them on as well before sliding into comfy sweatpants and his Iron Man slippers.

 _Alright, battle armor ready_ , he thought to himself, staring at his disheveled form in his floor-to-ceiling mirror, _let’s go blow shit up_.

“Tony? Is that you?”

 _Oh, shit_.

Knowing Steve would come investigate, Tony hurried into his walk-in closet, ducking behind his Armani suits until he could feel along the wall. Finding the panel he was looking for, he placed his palm against it, swinging open a secret door to a tiny elevator.

_Paranoia pays off sometimes._

The elevator took him directly down to the lab, making Tony sigh in relief when it opened to the empty workshop. He stumbled over to his table to sit down, shoving up the sleeves of his hoodie before bringing up current diagnostics for the suit and a list of current tasks to be completed.

“You _are_ supposed to be in bed, you know.”

Tony yelped and whirled around in his chair, only to pout as Pepper clacked into the workshop in her tall stilettos. She sighed once she got close enough to inspect his face, reaching up to brush her thumb over the bandaging on his forehead.

“You are such an ass sometimes, I swear you live to give me heart attacks,” she said, clicking her tongue, “You know Steve will scold you if he finds out you left, right?”

“I think he already knows. I went up to change and he was in PJ’s room singing to him,” Tony muttered, leaning into her touch for once, “I used my emergency elevator so I wouldn’t have to talk to him.”

“Oh, Tony…”

“Don’t ‘oh Tony’ me! I—okay, maybe this time its completely justified, but still.”

Pepper rolled her eyes and perched herself on a clear spot on his worktable, setting the packet of papers she was holding onto the only other open spot.

“What happened?” she finally asked, turning to give him her full attention.

“I made a joke and he got upset,” Tony said, sifting a hand through his hair, “He was ganging up on me with Bruce to stay in medical, so I told him I wanted Barnes to babysit since he was the ‘shiner model’.”

He made air quotes and rolled his eyes.

“Clearly, I was kidding, but he took it seriously and left. Bruce got mad that I made Steve upset, so _he_ left. Then, PJ must have known he was upset because he tried to leave, too. Thankfully, Barnes showed up and grabbed him to take him up to Steve,” he finished, slumping back in his chair.

“You two really need to communicate better,” Pepper hummed, picking up one of Tony’s hands to start massaging his palm, “Plus, I don’t think Steve would actually get up and leave if you made a simple joke. It’s probably more than that.”

“Of course it is. It _always_ is, isn’t it,” he grumbled, “I thought we’d talked it out and were doing something, but I guess not if he thinks I’d pick Barnes over him. That’s just idiotic.”

“ _Tony_. Steve’s, what, twenty-six? From his file, he doesn’t exactly have good relationship experience. He always talks about how before the serum, the girls would pick Bucky and not him,” Pepper chided gently, “It’s a sore spot for him. He probably thought you did it on purpose.”

Tony’s eyes bugged once he realized that Pepper was right.

_Oh god, oh jeez, oh fuck—_

“Oh fuck,” he repeated out loud, only to yelp when she pinched his arm.

“I’ll go tell Captain Rogers to meet you down here with PJ,” she said, sliding off the table with grace, “Please try to be nice, okay? Apologize, but keep it G-rated.”

“Fine. But only if you tell him he’s not allowed to yell at me,” Tony grunted, folding his arms over his chest, “I don’t need to be in medical, anyway.”

“You never do,” Pepper answered with a smile, running her manicured hand through his hair, “Bye, Tony. Please get that paperwork done.”

“Bye, Pep. We’ll see,” he called over his shoulder, grinning at her sigh.

As soon as she was gone, Tony eyed his liquor cabinet, knowing he had stashed away a few bottles of whiskey for moments when he felt like this. However, with the knowledge that the kid would show up, he pushed down the urge to drink, forcing himself to concentrate on his work instead. Of course, he never could concentrate when he was anxious as all fuck, so he resigned himself to his paperwork, losing himself in the repetitive motion of signing his name over and over again.

After a quarter of an hour, JARVIS’ voice cut through the silence, “Sir, Captain Rogers is approaching the lab with the child.”

Tony sighed in relief and threw his pen down, moving the papers to a spot on the table where they wouldn’t be in the way. He swiveled around in his chair, pulling down his sweatshirt sleeves at the last second to cover up where he’d tugged out his IV. Finally, the workshop doors slid open, revealing Steve with PJ leaning against his chest, clearly exhausted.

“Ms. Potts said you wanted to see me?” He said in a clipped tone, keeping his chin held high.

“Oh, knock it off, Captain Tightpants, I was going to apologize, but apparently you’d rather start a fight,” Tony shot back, raising an eyebrow, “But I’m not doing that, either, since you have PJ with you. If you want to get into a screaming match, it’ll have to wait.”

“Apologize?” Steve echoed, making Tony snort in disbelief.

“Contrary to popular belief, I do know when I’ve screwed up,” he grunted, standing up from his chair, “Or, at least, when I need to apologize for _something_. Jesus, Steve, you ran out of there like a bat out of hell. You scared the kid enough that he tried to run after you.”

He huffed softly, feeling his initial anger melt into concern. Shaking his head, Tony stepped forward into Steve’s personal space, ducking his head to try and meet PJ’s sleepy gaze.

“Yeah, you. You’re lucky Uncle Bucky was there to scoop up your wily ass,” he continued, unable to help his smile at PJ’s giggle, “Yeah, uh-huh. And people say _I’m_ the troublemaker. We really need to keep a better eye on you when I’m out for the count.”

PJ reached out toward Tony, patting his small hand on his face against his beard. Tony snorted, taking him from Steve’s arms to hold close to his chest.

“And you, you are a _big_ troublemaker. You know full well I’d never pick Bucky over you. He’s not even my type,” he said dismissively, waving his hand.

“Type?” Steve repeated again, awkwardly folding his arms over his chest.

_Oh, boy._

“You in there, Captain?” Tony asked slowly, reaching out to lay a gentle hand on Steve’s arms, “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Steve made a soft noise and shook his head, clearly distressed and confused. Slowly, Tony unraveled his crossed arms, placing himself and PJ into Steve’s personal space and sliding an arm around his waist. Automatically, his arms came up to encircle them, resting easily on the small of Tony’s back.

“If—damn, I can’t believe I’m saying this—if you want to try this, we can try this,” Tony said gently, “I can’t promise you anything, but god, Steve, if you have feelings back, I’m not about to keep denying myself you. I’ve killed myself over it long enough.”

He forced himself to keep his head tilted up to make eye contact, surprised to find Steve’s worry melt into a shy smile that made his eyes crinkle in the corners. Then, he started to laugh, soft at first, turning into shoulder-shaking cackling as he ducked his head into the crook of Tony’s neck.

“Did—did I miss something? I thought we were having a moment,” Tony complained, pouting as he reached up to pet Steve’s hair, “Did I break you?”

“I just feel really, _really_ stupid,” Steve mumbled into Tony’s neck as he settled from his giggle fit, breathing hot air onto the skin and making Tony shiver, “We—we could have had this, or at least tried this, _way_ earlier if I’d just—”

“Hey, hey. Don’t beat yourself up. Neither of us are exactly great when it comes to emotions and shit.”

“Are you going to keep swearing around PJ?”

“With you talking into my neck like that, it’s hard not to.”

Steve pulled away sheepishly, reaching up to stroke his thumb over the place where his lips had been on Tony’s skin. He shivered again at the touch, involuntarily flicking out his tongue to wet his bottom lip before biting it between his teeth. Being under the Captain’s weighty gaze never failed to make him tingle with goosebumps, but with the heaviness of their conversation, Tony was sure that he was going to faint. Slowly, Steve leaned down, nudging his nose up against Tony’s to have him tilt his head, nearly brushing their lips together.

“Can—Can I kiss you?” Steve breathed.

_I can feel his eyelashes on my face, dear god—_

“I don’t know, can you?” Tony said back, a smirk curling up his lips.

Before Steve could complete the kiss, PJ shuddered in Tony’s arms, promptly leaning up to throw up over Tony’s shoulder, the back of his hoodie, and onto the floor. There was a pause and Steve promptly burst into laughter again, clutching at his chest and throwing his head back as he cackled. Tony scrunched his eyes shut, feeling the liquid start to seep into his clothes with a heavy sigh.

“Right. Of course. Okay. You need to take the kid—J, call Bruce and have him meet us in the kid’s bedroom,” he said, pouting at Steve as he continued to giggle, “Asshole, take the _kid_ —”

“Sorry, sorry, just—we’ll finish this after this gets cleaned up,” Steve said apologetically as he took PJ from his arms, “Do you need help?”

Tony shook his head and stripped out of his hoodie, pointedly walking forward to avoid the mess on the floor. He headed over to the emergency laundry chute and threw the hoodie and his shirt down it, turning around with a sigh. Steve was gone, presumably to take PJ upstairs to get checked out. Taking a few minutes, Tony quickly cleaned up the mess, noting that it was oddly orange in color. He thoroughly washed his hands and headed up to his floor, wishing he could take a shower first.

“Alright, is everything okay in here?” he asked as he walked into PJ’s bedroom, seeing Bruce press an electric thermometer to the child’s forehead.

“I think so. No fever, just complaining of a stomach ache. What did he have to eat earlier?” Bruce asked.

“Juice, a few crackers, and then Clint gave him sweet potatoes,” Steve ticked off, “They’re all acceptable for kids.”

“If its any help, his vomit was disgustingly orange. I’d say its something with the sweet potatoes,” Tony said.

Bruce thought for a moment, then nodded, packing away the thermometer.

“If he hasn’t been eating properly, the potato may have been too starchy,” he explained, “I’d stick to bland foods for now. Rice and plain shredded chicken should do it. Once he can eat that with no problem, we’ll try other foods. In the meantime, just make sure he lays down for a bit. He’ll feel kind of gross for a few hours. Have him drink some water and try the rice and chicken for dinner tonight.”

“Okay. Thanks, Brucey bear. I appreciate your help,” Tony said, reaching out to squeeze Bruce’s arm when he moved to leave.

Bruce seemed a bit surprised, but he muttered a ‘you’re welcome’ and hightailed it out of the room. Tony watched him leave, only to turn his gaze to Steve’s clouded one.

“Hey. He’s okay. He’s a tough bird,” he said gently, moving to place his hands on Steve’s chest, “He’ll be okay.”

PJ sniffled from where he was tucked into bed, looking paler than usual against the blue sheets.

“Daddy?” he whispered, voice cracking.

Turning, Tony smiled, pulling Steve with him so they could sit on the edge of PJ’s bed. He hushed the boy softly, reaching up to sift his fingers through the boy’s hair.

“You’re okay, _bambino_. Your tummy just didn’t like what you ate. We’ll get something nice and warm for you for dinner and you’ll feel a lot better, alright?” he soothed, re-tucking the blankets around PJ and his elephant, “Don’t worry, darling. You tired? Want to sleep a little?”

PJ managed a nod, his eyes fluttering shut as he turned his head to nose at Tony’s palm. He shushed him again and moved his hand back into PJ’s hair, gently scratching his scalp to try and help him sleep. Slowly but surely, the boy drifted off, his even breaths a relief to both men. Standing from the bed, Tony beckoned to Steve, closing the door to a crack once they both were out of the room.

He turned, and there Steve was, moving into his space, callused and strong hands cupping his jaw before he could so much as get a word out. There was a second where Steve’s thumb stroked his cheekbone, but then he was there, chapped lips pressed against his own, taut and worried and slightly inexperienced, so Tony tilted his head slightly to slot them better together, kissing back to try and ease Steve’s nerves. He moved his hands up Steve’s chest to his shoulders and neck and face, tugging him in despite his need for air; someone groaned, and Tony was pretty sure it was himself, but it made his knees go weak anyway, forcing Steve to move his hands to his waist to keep him standing. Reluctantly, Steve pulled away first, both of them panting heavily as they pressed their foreheads together.

“Good?” Steve asked hoarsely, clearing his throat before asking again, “Good?”

“Better than good,” Tony breathed, “Do it again.”

He fisted his hands into Steve’s shirt to yank him down to his height, feverishly kissing him over and over again, unable to help the happy purr in his throat once Steve relaxed into it. There was a laugh, so Tony grunted, gently nipping Steve’s bottom lip and swiping his tongue over the point to ease the pain.

“You deserved that,” he said in between kisses, feeling Steve’s posture stiffen, “Don’t even try to tell me you didn’t, you _laughed_ at me when I’m giving you one of the best make-out sessions you’ll ever have in your _life_ —”

“Do that again,” Steve said flatly, pulling back slightly to look Tony in the eyes.

He sucked in a breath, eyes widening once he saw how dilated his pupils were; without hesitating, Tony ducked his head, pressing kisses along Steve’s _wonderful, good, perfect_ neck and biting at the pale skin to leave faint bruises. They faded just as quickly as he placed them, making him whine in frustration.

“Don’t bruise easily. Serum,” Steve panted, smiling dopily at Tony’s pout, “Come back up here. You can give that attention later.”

“ _Later?_ ” Tony squeaked, giggling as Steve eagerly bent down for more hurried kisses.

“Oh, god, they’re like horny treefrogs,” Clint’s voice said from down the hallway, causing them to jump apart, “Just _look_ at that tongue, good lord.”

Clint and Bucky walked up, the latter putting his hands on his hips as they observed the clearly guilty parties. He sighed and shook his head, dragging his metal hand over his face and mumbling expletives under his breath.

“We’ll deal with this later. Right now, you two need to come—you need to follow me,” he said, narrowing his eyes at Clint’s dirty giggle, “Nat and T’Challa have some information you two need to hear. Clint’s going to perch out here for a while.”

“Uncle Clint, reporting for duty,” Clint said with a mock salute, winking.

“You two better keep this to yourselves,” Steve said seriously, drawing himself up to his full height and putting on his Captain America voice, “Understand, soldiers?”

“Yeah, yeah. We get it. We won’t tell everyone that you two finally got your heads out of your respective asses,” Bucky snorted, tilting his head, “Let’s go.”

Leaving Clint to keep watch over PJ, Tony and Steve hesitantly followed Bucky down to the common room, joining their fellow Avengers once more for a group meeting. Tony immediately sidled up to Natasha’s side and Steve to T’Challa’s, both men clearly impatient and antsy.

“So, Natty dear, what’s the 411?” Tony asked, “We got info on HYDRA’s whereabouts?”

“Possibly,” T’Challa answered with a nod, “Shuri got in touch with Vision and Dr. Banner, and the three of them have pinpointed an outpost similar to the one you originally infiltrated. However, it is deep in the Sahara Desert, so we suspect that it is a much larger complex than what scans are showing. Plus, it’s an ideal location for keeping hostages, as they cannot possibly escape and survive in the desert for very long.”

It was quiet for a second, then Steve cleared his throat, shifting on his heels uncomfortably.

“Okay. So, we have a place. Do we have anything else?” he asked.

“I was able to recover some files on the specific torture methodology used on PJ,” Natasha started, her eyes glancing over to Tony, “You may want to sit for this. Even I felt uncomfortable reading it.”

“Oh Jesus, Nat. Don’t say that shit,” He breathed, suddenly feeling very cold.

“C’mon, Stark. Pop a squat,” Sam said carefully, kicking over a chair in Tony’s direction, “You too, Cap. It isn’t pretty.”

Tony shared a look with Steve before they sat down, each bracing themselves as Natasha began to detail the torture to them. Phrases like _lengthy submersion in freezing water to induce cryostasis or death_ , _tied to a whipping post to be beat until near death to judge healing factor_ , and _sensory deprivation to test propensity to panic attacks and fits of uncontrolled rage_ entered Tony’s head, rooting themselves deep into his psyche where he knew that he would have nightmares just from hearing those descriptions. By the end of the multi-page ordeal, Tony had reached across the divide to clasp Steve’s hand, bracing his elbow on his knee so he could hide his face in his other hand. Steve wasn’t faring much better, his shaking shoulders betraying the emotion he was desperately trying to hide. He dropped his head, letting his tears fall and stain his pants.

The silence in the room was deafening but was unable to capture the bone-deep grief that the men had to swallow.

“Tony,” Natasha said gently, crouching down in front of the man to place a hand on his knee, “We have him now. The important part is that we got him out before he endured anything else.”

“We don’t fucking know that,” He answered bitterly, taking his hand away from his face to show her how red his eyes were from the tears that refused to fall, “I let—I got us captured, I don’t know what they did to him—”

“We have him now,” She stressed again, maintaining eye contact, “That’s the important part.”

“She’s right.”

Tony turned to look at Steve, who had finally picked up his head, staring off into the distance as he talked.

“We have him now. We’re not preventers, we’re Avengers. And I’m going to make sure Zola personally pays for everything he’s done to my son— _our_ son,” he continued quietly, tightening his grip on Tony’s hand, “I wish I could tear his throat out, but making sure he doesn’t hurt anyone else will have to do.”

“We’ve got your back,” Bucky affirmed, stepping up to place a hand on Steve’s shoulder, “Both of you. You’re not alone in this.”

“He’s right,” Thor nodded from his place on the couch, “We are at your call, Captain.”

It was quiet again, so Tony stood from his chair, slowly moving over to kneel in front of Steve. He took his hand in both of his own, looking up to search his eyes.

“We can do this. Together,” he said softly, squeezing his hand, “As much as I want to see you single-handedly destroy the rest of HYDRA, I want to be right there next to you, where I belong. Alright?”

Steve nodded, offering a watery smile. He looked around at the team, took one deep breath, and stood, pulling Tony up with him without letting go of his hand.

“Alright. Plans. Let’s hear them.”

As a team, they spent hours together hashing and re-hashing out their plan of attack, balancing out variables and methods, attempting to decide what their best approach would be. However, since they did not have enough information about the actual complex yet to decide the initial infiltration, Tony called it a night, waving everyone away.

“T’Challa, keep Shuri working on her sonic echolocator and see if she can get any more information about the depth of the complex. Tell her she can use JARVIS if she wants a second hand on board,” he said, pulling the Black Panther aside, “And…tell her thank you. Its always good to have another brain on board, and I only want the best. She’s invaluable and I’m glad she is part of the team.”

He gave Tony a quirked smile, clasping his forearm and squeezing slightly.

“Of course. She always loves a challenge. Perhaps I will bring her to the states sometime so you two can meet. That is, if the Captain allows me. He may want to prevent you two from staying in your workshop any longer than you already seem to be.”

Tony rolled his eyes, smiling despite himself. He thanked T’Challa again and left, heading straight to the kitchen. Internal suffering usually made him peckish for alcohol, but he was being good, so he threw himself into cooking dinner for PJ. Halfway through cooking the chicken, familiar footsteps padded into the room, and Rhodey appeared at his side, leaning against the countertop.

“You alright?” He asked, tilting his head slightly.

“I’m…as expected,” Tony answered carefully, staring at the chicken in the pan, “I need to talk to Steve. I’m used to shoving this stuff down into the pit that used to be my sternum. Him? Not so much.”

“I think you both have good bottling techniques,” Rhodey snorted, shaking his head fondly, “But you _should_ talk to him. If anything, just to comfort each other. No one ever wants to hear that kind of news.”

Tony nodded and flipped the chicken over, not offering a response.

“Look, Tones. I’ve known you long enough to at least suspect when you’re not okay. If you want to talk, you know I’ve got your back.”

“PJ threw up on your hoodie.”

Silence.

“My MIT one? The one you took?”

“Mhm.”

More silence.

“It’ll wash out. Right?”

“Well, yeah, but now every time I wear it I’m going to think of when my kid threw up on it.”

Rhodey exhaled, rolling his eyes up the ceiling before shaking his head.

“I’ll take it back for a few months so it smells like me again, and by that time, it’ll be completely vomit-free, and you’ll be fine,” he said, smiling at Tony’s sheepish grin, “Don’t worry, buddy. I’ll get it back into tip-top Rhodey shape.”

“Thank you,” Tony murmured, turning off the stove and taking the finished chicken off of the heat, “For everything. Being here. Avoiding your job just to—”

“Anthony. You’re my _best friend_. I would do anything for you, you know that,” Rhodey interrupted quietly, putting a hand on Tony’s shoulder, “And yes, that seems to include taking extra time off, but I don’t mind. I like spending time with you, and I want to be able to say I was there for you when you needed me most. I already screwed that up once, and I won’t do it again. Alright?”

Tony bit his lip, nodding. He turned to offer Rhodey a thankful smile, reaching up to pat his hand.

“Alright. But right now, I need to go feed this kid since Barton made him sick on accident,” he sighed, pouting at Rhodey’s chuckle, “I really wish I was kidding. It was gross, man. I thought I could handle bodily fluids since I’ve got the reactor and have to stick my hand into that grossness, but—”

He shuddered, making a face as he plated up the shredded chicken and cooked rice.

“No one gets used to it. Now, go feed him, I’m going to go fill Pepper in on everything. I’ll leave out the details, but I’ll let her know you may have to leave on short notice,” Rhodey said, leaning up off of the counter, “Call when you leave for the Sahara. I can stay here and be the babysitter. You might need Uncle Clint on duty.”

“Don’t give him the satisfaction of calling him that.”

Rhodey laughed as he exited the kitchen, leaving Tony to stare at the plate in front of him. With a thousand jumbled thoughts trying to right themselves in his head, he filled up PJ’s sippy cup with water and grabbed the plate and child utensils to take down to his room. He ended up having to hip-bump the door open, but then Clint was there, taking the food from his hands so he could help PJ sit up in bed.

“Hey, kiddo. You look a little better,” Tony murmured, offering up a smile, “Think you can eat?”

PJ looked over at Clint and nodded, so he gave Tony the plate and cup back and made to leave.

“Clint. Could you send Steve and Bucky in here?” Tony asked, sitting down on the bed next to PJ.

Clint nodded, and they were left alone. Slowly, Tony started to feed PJ, not wanting the child to accidentally eat too fast or spill his food all over his bed. PJ eagerly ate, his sippy cup drained just after a few bites.

“Take it easy, pumpkin. You can always have more, I promise,” Tony soothed fondly, poking in another spoonful of rice, “You’ll always have food, okay? You don’t have to be like your Papa and squirrel away extras when you think no one is looking.”

“I told you, I don’t do that anymore,” Steve said from down the hallway, padding into the bedroom with Bucky in tow, “It’s good that he’s eating, though. Is something wrong?”

“Sort of. Not with him, necessarily, but with leaving someone to watch him,” Tony answered, waving for the two men to sit, “Steve, when you were on the motorbike following me and PJ in the HYDRA van, do you remember what happened after the goon ripped out my tracker?”

Steve’s brows drew together in thought, “Yeah. PJ pulled him off of you.”

“Exactly. He’s a toddler. He really shouldn’t have been able to do that, let alone toss the guy into the back to knock him out.”

“He did _what_?” Bucky interrupted, looking back and forth between the two men, “Did neither of you think this was important enough to share with the whole class?”

“He never displayed any aggressive tendencies like it before, and hasn’t since,” Steve said gently, putting his fist under his chin, “But I see what you’re trying to get at. If he does have super strength or at least some percentage of it, someone with similar ability should watch him in case he does become aggressive.”

“Right. I don’t think he would purposefully do it, but I know that with nightmares, it’s possible that he could subconsciously feel trapped and may try to use his strength,” Tony murmured, feeding PJ the last of the chicken and setting the plate aside, “So I think the rotation should stay between us three, and possibly Thor, if he’s on-world.”

“He doesn’t even like me, so how would that work?” Bucky grunted, raising an eyebrow as PJ crawled out of the bed to situate himself onto Tony’s lap.

“He likes you, he just likes Natasha better,” Tony teased back, wrapping his arms around PJ, “Still. I think we should tell the team this. Then, if the others need to watch him because one of us is unavailable, they should have two people keeping watch.”

Steve nodded, a fond smile on his face as he watched PJ curl up to Tony’s chest, reaching up with one hand to pat at the silhouette of the arc reactor shining through his shirt.

“Fine. I’ll make sure to pass it on to Bruce as well. He may want to look into the strength of the serum itself within PJ and possibly want to monitor it,” Bucky sighed, standing up from the rocking chair, “I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone, then.”

He left the room and closed the door behind him as Steve stood, moving to sit next to Tony on the bed. He wrapped his arm around Tony’s waist, resting his head on his shoulder so he could watch PJ play with Tony’s shirt.

“Are you alright?” He asked quietly.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that question?”

“I’m not.”

Tony turned to look at Steve, nudging his head with his shoulder to make him look up. He searched his face for a moment, then nodded, dropping his gaze back down to PJ.

“Me either,” he admitted, “God, I can’t—I don’t want to accept it. He never deserved any of it, and I can’t help but feel as though it's my fault, y’know? I could’ve found them earlier, could’ve worked harder—”

“We all could have,” Steve murmured, moving his hand up to massage the back of Tony’s neck, “I’m right there with you, believe me. But I also know that I can’t control the enemy and that I have to deal with whatever cards they play. We have him now, sweetheart, and we’re going to make sure he stays as safe as possible.”

“…Sweetheart?” Tony teased, turning to smile at Steve.

The Captain blushed slightly, shrugging at the nickname. He merely hummed in response, continuing to trace lines and shapes over Tony’s back as they watched PJ start to slow down and settle in Tony’s arms. It didn’t take long for the child to nearly drift off, at which Tony stood, pressing a kiss to the boy’s head and setting him on his feet.

“Okay, kiddo. A quick bath, then off to bed with you,” He said, ushering PJ off toward the bathroom, “Steve, you wanna get his bed ready, take the plate to the kitchen and pick out a bedtime story?”

Steve nodded, so Tony focused on getting PJ cleaned up, deciding to do another sponge bath; after hearing about the submersion torture, he was more than wary on trying to introduce him to a regular bath or shower. Thankfully, PJ was tired enough that he didn’t whine too much as he went through his bedtime routine, eventually finding himself tucked up against Tony’s chest in Iron Man pajamas with his teeth brushed and his hair combed.

“Good job, kiddo. I’m so proud of you,” he whispered to the boy, bouncing him around the room a bit before tucking him back into bed, “You have been so good, _bambino_. I love you, darling.”

PJ burrowed down into his blankets with his elephant, offering up a hint of a smile when Tony tucked the sheets down around him. Steve reentered the room, sidling up next to Tony to wrap an arm around his waist and kiss his forehead, smiling against it.

“Why don’t you get ready for bed and relax?” he murmured, “I got this.”

“Join me when you’re done?”

Steve nodded and they pulled apart; Tony gave PJ one last kiss before heading out the door, hurrying down to his own room to nearly throw himself into the shower. He wasn’t expecting anything, and wasn’t really sure if he wanted to start something like that this soon with Steve, but he absolutely wanted Steve to stay the night, so he took the time to make sure his face was cleaned up and his beard was trimmed. Looking into the mirror, Tony winced at the bruising on his naked form, turning around to check out the damage on his back and legs.

A knock on the door made him jump in surprise: “Tony?”

“Just a minute,” he called, gingerly stepping into his pajamas.

Exiting the bathroom in a cloud of steam, he found Steve sitting on the edge of his bed, changed out of his day clothes into what looked like comfortable lounge pants and a tank top. Tony had to pause for a moment, inwardly chastising himself for being so thirsty over Steve’s arms.

“Sorry I took so long. Kind of more purple than pink right now,” he managed, waving at the bruising on his face.

“It’s alright, I just wanted to make sure you didn’t fall or anything,” Steve said gently, an amused twinkle in his eyes, “You okay to sleep a bit?”

Tony nodded, moving over to take Steve’s hand, pulling him up from the bed so he could pull the sheets down, only to push him back onto the bed. Steve didn’t protest, so he took that as a win, carefully settling himself down onto his side of the bed. Moving his ribs made him hiss slightly, as the numbing medication was starting to wear off, but Steve immediately curled up to his side, and the weight of his arm over his stomach distracted from the pain in his side.

“Sleep, Tony,” he said, pulling the covers up around them, “I’ll be here when you wake up. I promise.”

Of course, being the insomniac that he was, Tony stayed awake for another hour or so, allowing himself to enjoy Steve’s familiar weight curled up next to him, listening to the man breathe as he slept on. It was one of those moments where he realized that, despite the shit that was collapsing around him, despite the mountains he knew he’d have to climb in both his new relationship with Steve and with fatherhood, and despite the oncoming dread of having to face his fears, Tony decided that for right then, he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world.

So, he closed his eyes, and fell asleep.


	11. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Sahara looms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has left comments and joined me on this journey. There will be one more chapter--the epilogue--and then Spliced will come to a close. 
> 
> As always, unbeta'd. Comments and kudos are really appreciated. Ask me questions over [@avengersasssemble](www.avengersasssemble.tumblr.com) on tumblr.com.

He wasn’t particularly used to sleeping through the night without waking up in a cold sweat, so when grunting woke him up instead of a nightmare, Tony groaned and buried himself under the covers, scooting back into the warm body behind him in an attempt to savor the moment. Steve made a noise and his arm tightened a fraction around his waist, but another grunt came from _in front_ of him, and he realized there was another person in the room. He evened out his breathing to make it as quiet as possible, tightening his muscles in case he needed to fling himself over Steve’s body. Just as he was about to nudge Steve awake, something soft smacked him in the face, causing him to yelp in surprise. Immediately, Steve was up and protectively crouched over Tony, only he laughed and settled back onto his side with a sigh.

“We have a guest,” he said, voice still thick with sleep.

Poking his head up, Tony saw two small hands scrabbling at the bedsheets and heard frustrated whines drifting up from that side. Looking over, PJ’s pouty face stared back up at him.

“Oh, good, my wake-up call,” Tony drawled, wincing as he helped the boy up onto the bed, “Good morning, peaches. Is it morning?”

“The time is currently seven past five A.M., Sir,” JARVIS said.

Tony exhaled loudly, rolling his eyes as PJ grabbed up his elephant—the one he had thrown at Tony—and settled himself between the two adults, wiggling until he was comfortable.

“Oh, yes, please make yourself at home, not like I wanted that warmth or anything,” He grumbled, watching PJ snuggle up to Steve’s side, “You’re a brat, you know that? You come in here, take him _and_ the covers, you are a little monster—”

“Shh, Tony,” Steve sighed, lazily turning his head to smile at him, “It’s alright. Enjoy the moment.”

“He took my spot.”

“There’s plenty of room in here for both of you.”

“My spot next to _you_.”

Steve rolled his eyes and pulled PJ up onto his chest, allowing Tony to scoot back in and throw his leg over Steve’s legs. PJ huffed in annoyance at being moved, but Steve’s chest was warm, and he easily settled with his head tucked under Steve’s chin.

“We should probably get up soon anyway. You hungry, fella?” Steve murmured, putting a hand on PJ’s back.

The boy’s stomach growled in response, at which Tony laughed softly, leaning up to press a kiss to PJ’s cheek. The movement tugged on his ribs, making him groan as he laid back down, hand automatically moving to his injury.

“Oh, shit, Tony,” Steve murmured, sending over a worried look, “Why don’t he and I get up and bring you breakfast in bed? You need your next pain medication dosage, anyway.”

He wanted to disagree, but Steve was offering him food _in bed_ , and he’d slept so well in it for once that he didn’t feel like leaving. With a nod, Tony flopped over and tucked himself further under the sheets, groaning as he felt the bed rise when Steve stood.

“I’ll be back,” He heard Steve say, “Do you want the whole coffee pot or just a cu—you know, I don’t know why I’m asking. I’m bringing you the whole pot.”

“You’re a national treasure, God bless America,” Tony called back, snickering at Steve’s groan, “Make sure to feed him something bland. Eggs and toast.”

“I got it,” Steve’s voice drifted in as he walked away.

Tony sighed happily in the warm bed, stretching out all of his limbs so he was starfished out, taking up as much room as possible. Usually, being reminded of the size of his bed and how much it dwarfed him made him uneasy, but he could feel the warm spots next to him where Steve had been sleeping, and for once, he didn’t feel so alone. He closed his eyes, drifting somewhere between awake and asleep as he listened for Steve cooking, his baritone easy to pick out against the occasional high chirps of PJ most likely asking for bits. The smell of eggs and ham and fresh coffee filled his nose, and just as he forced himself to shuffle and sit up in bed, Steve was carrying a tray in to set on his lap.

“If you need help, ask,” he was saying, pushing cutlery into Tony’s hand, “I figure you can cut stuff up, but if it makes your side hurt, I don’t mind doing it. I’ll be right back, I left PJ in his highchair with juice and I need to make sure he doesn’t cause a tsunami in the kitchen. Pills have already been crushed up and added to your eggs since you don’t like taking them regularly. Do you need anything else? That is, anything that isn’t ketchup.”

“I don’t eat ketchup on my eggs and I’m slightly offended you think I do. I want hot sauce.”

“That’s worse.”

“It fuels me.”

“You can pick coffee or hot sauce. Only one acidic item this early in the morning.”

Tony whined loudly, pouting at his plate until Steve sighed, and he knew he’d got him.

“Fine. But I’m telling Bucky about it,” Steve decided, grinning as he pressed a kiss to Tony’s hairline, “You guys can bond over it. He loves that stuff.”

“Nevermind, I like my eggs just like this,” Tony grunted, making a face when Steve laughed, “What? I have a _much_ better palette than him, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Whatever you say, darling. I’ll be right back. Make sure you eat the fruit, too,” Steve said, pushing the bowl of strawberries and blueberries closer to Tony.

Making a point of popping a blueberry into his mouth, Tony watched as Steve left again, only to laugh when he heard a familiar shriek from the room over. He quickly dug into his breakfast, shoveling eggs onto his toast once he realized how hungry he actually was. He was halfway through his ham steak when Steve walked by the door with PJ over his shoulder, giggling and clearly dripping with something.

“Pull-ups are in the top drawer! And give him a sponge bath, not a full one!” Tony called.

A muffled ‘got it’ came through the wall, so Tony relaxed back into the bed, noisily humming as he finished off his breakfast and half of the pot of coffee. He moved the tray to the bedside table, scooting himself out of the nest of blankets and bedsheets to get himself ready for the day, already grinding away possibilities in his head for ways to help Shuri scan through the Sahara base they had located. By the time he was dressed with the last cup of coffee in his hand, Tony realized that Steve still wasn’t back, and went to check on him.

“What the hell happened in here?” He asked once he stepped foot in the room, seeing a half-nude toddler running around and Steve sitting in the middle of the room, completely drenched.

“I’m not good at this,” Steve said, his eyes trailing PJ as the boy ran around the room giggling, “At all.”

Tony rolled his eyes and handed his cup to him, waiting for PJ to make his loop before grabbing him under his armpits and lifting him into his arms with a grunt. PJ squealed happily, wriggling as he tried to push Tony away.

“Okay, okay, yeah, someone’s hyperactive today,” he snorted, keeping a tight hold on the boy as he took him into the bathroom, “We gotta get you cleaned up and into some clothes, okay? Then we can go run around. Can you be still for me? Just for a bit?”

PJ whined and pouted as he was set on his feet, grunting when Tony wrangled him out of what was left of his pajamas and carefully scrubbed him down. It was a miracle that the child was able to behave for him for so long, especially since he continued to glance at the door like he was going to bolt. Recognizing the itch, Tony bundled the boy up in a towel and carried him back out to the bedroom, plopping him onto the bed.

“Clothes. Then we can go run. I’ll even take you to a special level where Papa and I go to run around,” Tony said, making a mental note to add a park scene to their holodeck, “Okay?”

PJ nodded from inside the towel, giggling when Tony plucked it off to show his face. Thankfully, all of the boy’s clothes matched relatively well, so he didn’t waste too much time on picking out an outfit, merely wanting to get it onto the child. Once his shoes were velcroed together, Tony set him on the floor with a kiss on his cheek, causing the boy to squeal in laughter.

“Go see Papa. He’s probably in my—in our bedroom, okay?” he said, watching the boy dart off.

Left with the mess to clean up, Tony put his hands on his hips, shaking his head fondly. It was a good sign that the child was acting so positive and like a _child_. It was quite a change from when they first found him, and he hoped it was for the better.

By the time he had finished cleaning up PJ’s room and bathroom and returned to his bedroom, apparently Steve had showered and collapsed on the bed, because that’s where Tony found him, splayed out on his side with PJ on top of his back, equally as asleep and snoring into Steve’s neck. He bit his lip and motioned for JARVIS to snap a picture, quietly backing out of the room and closing the doors to leave them to sleep.

“J, where’s T’Challa?” He asked, stepping into the elevator.

“King T’Challa is with Sergeant Barnes and Mr. Barton in the communal lounge.”

“Great, take me there.”

The elevator began to move, leaving Tony with his thoughts: earlier, the team had agreed that the best plan forward would be to divide the team into two groups. One would stay at home with Tony as a protectorate for PJ and JARVIS, and the other would infiltrate the Sahara base. The problem was no one could decide who was best suited for each task, as there was no good information about the Sahara base.

“Oh good, Dr. Stark, come join us,” T’Challa called once he spotted Tony exiting the elevator, “Shuri has sent over the plans for the compound—and she thanks you for JARVIS’ help. She quite enjoyed his, ah, ‘Stark snark’.”

“That’s trademarked,” Tony said, putting on a pot of coffee and setting out mugs before heading over to the small group, “What’ve we got?”

“Nothing good, that’s for damn sure,” Bucky grunted, jabbing a finger at the layout, “One visible entrance. They purposefully want us funneled going in. It’d be a suicide mission.”

“Can’t we Hulk it up?” Tony asked, sitting on the edge of the table.

“Bruce needs to stay here. The Hulk is the best defense for the kid—no offense,” Clint said, twirling an arrow between his fingers, “We could try aerial, but its pretty much all underground, with nothing around for miles. It's just a covered hatch in the middle of bumfuck, nowhere.”

“Cloaking tech?”

“Covers the vehicles around the area,” T’Challa confirmed with a nod, “But Sergeant Barnes is correct. We’d be funneled in.”

“That’s not possible. I’ve seen the tanks and equipment needed for their experiments, as well as the machinery needed for Zola,” Tony said, shaking his head, “There’s got to be another way in. If it's as expansive as we’re thinking, it's possible that it could stretch for miles. We need to check with the locals, see if they know anything. I’d say send Steve as a pun on his ex-job as Nomad, but it’d probably be best if we went stealth. Vis and Nat are our best bets, Clint, you cover. Maybe take Sam with you.”

“We should clear this with Steve first,” Bucky grunted, still eyeing the layout plans, “But I think you’re right. This might just be the main facility, and underground tunnels wouldn’t show on the scans. There might be old mine shafts under the sand, or possibly—”

“If there’s tombs, you can count me out for _sure_ ,” Clint interrupted, pouting when T’Challa laughed, “Dude, mummies are real. They are. They will come to life and they will try to _eat you_.”

“Perhaps. Either way, I have a…colleague out there who is familiar with the ancient architecture,” T’Challa said, “I’ll try to contact him, see if he knows anything.”

“Is there another super running around that we don’t know about?” Tony asked, sliding off the table once he heard the coffee pot click off.

“He doesn’t like to be bothered.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Clint muttered, only to yelp when Bucky smacked his arm.

“Alright. You do that. That means all three of you, plus Vis, Nat, and Sam are on Team Alpha,” Tony said, pouring himself a cup and holding it between his hands, “I’m here, for sure, with Bruce. I’d like Wanda here, too. I know splitting her from Vis is hard, but we could use the manpower.”

“Alright. We’ll take Thor and Steve, then.”

Tony nearly spit out his coffee, leveling Clint with a glare.

“What?” Clint asked, holding up his hands, “You get two powerhouses, we get the other two. I think that’s fair.”

“We also need the numbers, Tony. Steve needs to come with us,” Bucky said patiently, quirking an eyebrow with a smirk, “Why? Is there a reason you’d rather have Steve here?”

“I—uh—no, I just, y’know, the kid likes him,” Tony stammered, ignoring Clint’s shit-eating grin, “Fine. Take Steve. I can hold down the fort with Bruce and Wanda.”

“Good, because you’re going to have to,” Natasha’s voice said from behind him, making him squeak in surprise, “We’re leaving for Africa within the hour, so you three better get packed and ready. Tony, a word.”

Watching the other three go, Tony turned around to face the Widow, nodding toward the coffee pot. She took the hint and poured herself a cup, only to take a flask out from between her breasts and pour half of it into the cup.

“A woman after my own heart. What’s up?” He asked.

“This is going to be a dangerous operation. Nick and Maria aren’t very happy that we’re undertaking it without SHIELD backup,” She said, swallowing half of the scalding drink in one go, “I think we should bring them in, but I know how you feel about Nick getting close to this.”

Tony bit his lip, eyeing her carefully as she stared into her cup.

“If you think the backup is necessary, then call it in,” He decided, awarding himself a point for catching the surprise that flashed across her face, “Yeah, I don’t like him getting close to the kid, but PJ’s attached to Steve and me now, and we have the confirmed DNA tests, so he’s not going anywhere. From the sound of things, you guys might need the backup, especially for arrests and data retention.”

“I honestly expected to have to convince you,” Natasha murmured, “You’re a better man than you think, Tony.”

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?” he asked, letting her squeeze his shoulder before disappearing into the next room.

He watched her go with a sigh, finishing off the rest of his coffee and sticking the mug in the dishwasher before going back out to the communal lounge. Sure, he didn’t mind having the kid to himself for a few weeks, but without Steve? Everything was so new; they’d barely talked about where they stood relationship-wise, and now he was going to be gone—

“Sir, the young Sir is asking for you in a most desperate tone and seems to be having an attack,” JARVIS said, interrupting his thoughts.

“Is he still on my floor?” Tony asked, jogging to the elevator again.

“Affirmative. Shall I take you there?”

“Yeah, J.”

He mentally prepared himself for the crying that was definitely going on, but _nothing_ could prepare him for the sight the greeted him when the elevator doors dinged open. Calling it a temper-tantrum was the understatement of the century, considering PJ had literally flung himself to the ground, screaming and crying and causing his face to become blotchy and red from the lack of oxygen. Really, Tony would have laughed at how ridiculous he looked, but seeing Steve curled up in the corner with his hands over his ears, he did the only thing he could think of.

He marched right over to PJ, picked him up off the ground, and hugged him tight to his chest.

“Shh, I’m right here, it’s okay, you’re okay,” He soothed, ignoring the little hands pushing on his chest, “You gotta calm down, PJ. Okay? I’ll let you go once you can _breathe_. Breathe for me, honey. In and out.”

It took a few minutes, but soon the child was only crying into Tony’s shoulder, shaking a bit from the outburst. Tony grabbed up a blanket off the back of the couch, and with a quick few movements, bundled PJ up and set him on the couch.

“Alright, can you sit here for just a moment, kiddo? I need to check on Papa,” Tony said seriously, eyeing Steve’s still form from the corner of his eye, “I’ll be right back, darling. Hang tight.”

He pressed a kiss to PJ’s cheek and turned toward Steve, assessing the situation quickly. Slowly, he went over to Steve’s side, making sure his steps were audible to not scare the man.

“Hey. You with me?” Tony asked quietly, crouching down, “Steve? Can you pick your head up for me, baby doll?”

He eased his hand onto Steve’s shoulder, and when the other didn’t flinch, slowly reached up to pull his hands away from his ears. Carefully, Tony unfolded Steve from his uncomfortable position, not surprised to see the blank look in the other’s eyes.

“I’m right here. You’re okay, you’re right here with me, on my floor, and everything’s alright,” Tony said quietly, cupping Steve’s cheek to wipe away the tear tracks that ran down to his jaw, “Do you think you can stand? We should get you to the couch so I can hug both of my favorite boys.”

PJ started to sob again, so Tony made the quick decision and went back over, scooping the boy up into his arms. He bounced him over to Steve and slid down to the floor, sitting on Steve’s lap and placing PJ between them.

“There we go. Little uncomfortable, but I can work with it,” Tony said, brushing away PJ’s tears as the toddler relaxed back against Steve’s chest, “We’re all nice and cozy, yeah? Once we all feel a little better, we’ll make a thermos of hot cocoa for Papa to take on his trip, okay?”

PJ sniffled, but seemed content in his blanket burrito now that he was nestled in-between their body heats. Tony pressed another kiss to his cheek and wiped off the last of his tear tracks, turning a smile up toward Steve once he felt lips against his temple.

“Hey, you. Everything’s okay, I think he just had a fit. Sorry I left, I should have stayed just in case,” he murmured, happy to give Steve a quick kiss when the man tilted his head down.

“My fault,” Steve said quietly, bringing his arms up to wrap around Tony, “Had a nightmare. Think I scared him.”

“Steve, that doesn’t make me feel any better.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, no—it’s alright. I should have been there. For _both_ of you.”

Steve shook his head and made a disgruntled noise, nudging his nose against Tony’s forehead in protest. Hearing a soft whine between them, both men looked down, seeing PJ pouting up at them.

“Jealous?” Tony asked, “Well, we can’t have _that_ , now can we?”

He grinned and leaned down, blowing a raspberry against the babe’s cheek. He squealed loudly and tried to wriggle out of his blanket, only to have Steve scoop him up so they both could kiss his cheeks. PJ squealed even louder, laughing as he managed to get his arms out to he could push his small hands against their faces.

“No! No!” He giggled, having to gulp down breaths.

“What, don’t you like our kisses?” Tony teased.

He looked up at Steve, relieved to see that the man had finally started to come back, his eyes focused and present. Steve offered a small smile to Tony, gently moving PJ so he could press his lips against Tony’s with a relieved sigh. Once again upset at being left out, PJ pressed his face up against Steve and Tony’s, making the adults laugh and pull apart.

“God, you are a little troublemaker, aren’t you?” Tony laughed, hoisting PJ up onto his hip as he stood.

He offered a hand to Steve to help him up off the floor, stepping into his space to hug him with one arm. Steve’s arms came up and wrapped around them both, warm and comforting as they chased away the lingering feelings of fear.

“Now what’s this about hot cocoa?” Steve asked quietly, pulling back.

“Right. You’re on the team headed to the Sahara,” Tony said, shaking his head when Steve opened his mouth, “I agreed you should go. Bruce and Wanda are staying here, so they need the manpower. We’ll be okay while you’re gone.”

“Go?” PJ asked, his little hand clutched at the collar of Tony’s shirt.

“No, honey, you’re not going. You are staying here with me,” Tony said, pressing a kiss to the boy’s forehead, “Sorry, bud.”

“ _Go_ ,” PJ repeated, squirming in Tony’s hold.

“Bathroom,” Steve said, immediately reaching for PJ, “He means bathroom, babe.”

“Oh, shit, right.”

Tony set PJ down on his feet, both men following after the tot as he raced toward his bedroom. They made sure he got into the bathroom okay before relaxing, with Steve wrapping his arms around Tony’s waist.

“So, what’s happening?” he asked, “Regarding the mission.”

“T’Challa and Bucky will explain more on the way over, but you guys need to do some uncover in some local nomadic tribes to see where sand dunes have been disturbed or whatever. From the plans Shuri sent over, we can see only one visible entrance, and even I can see that it’s a complete trap. Clint and Bucky suspect there’s something under the sand, so asking around is our best shot. T’Challa has a super out there he knows and is going to talk to, but for now, you and Nat and the others will be digging around. Perhaps literally.”

“I really hate the desert.”

“I know.”

“The sand, it’s just…”

“I know. Imagine how my finely tuned technology feels.”

Steve laughed at that, lightly squeezing Tony’s hips in affection. He sighed softly, a warm smile twitching up his lips.

“You are beyond wonderful,” he said, to which Tony started to panic, only to be held in place by Steve’s hands, “Hey, don’t. I mean it. You _are_ wonderful. To me, to him…to the team. The world, even. I know—I know its difficult in terms of believing me when I say that, but you really are, Tony. You’re absolutely wonderful, caring, kind…in your own way, of course, but nevertheless, you are.”

“Steeeve,” Tony whined softly, pouting up at the other from under his long eyelashes, “Trapping me here to compliment me isn’t _fair_ , you know. It’s not like I can do it to you.”

“You can, but not in front of the tyke,” he answered, smirking at Tony’s gape.

“My my, Captain Rogers, so forwa—”

“Daddy!” PJ yelled from the bathroom, interrupting them.

Tony rolled his eyes and smacked Steve’s hands to get him to release, heading over to PJ to inspect the problem. The boy merely pointed at the sink, reaching his hands up toward Tony with a whine.

“I really need to start doing words with you so you can talk more and tell me what you want,” He murmured, “Alright, up we go.”

He picked PJ up and held him up to the sink, walking the boy through washing and drying his hands before setting him on his feet again.

“Good job, kiddo,” Tony praised, ruffling PJ’s hair and making the boy giggle, “You’re getting the hang of it, yeah? Now let’s go make Papa his drink.”

PJ nodded and stuck his hand out, grabbing hold of Tony’s hand as they walked out of the bathroom. Tony gently squeezed his hand back as thanks, letting the boy lead him—and by default, Steve—out to the kitchen. With a soft _hup_ , Tony scooped PJ up and sat him on the counter where he could kick his feet and watch.

“Okay, so the first step to making hot cocoa is to check and make sure you have milk. Some people make it with water, but then its hot _chocolate_ and not hot _cocoa_ ,” he explained, opening the fridge to pull out the milk, “The hardest part of the whole process is to make sure you don’t burn the milk.”

Tony rifled around until he found a suitable pot and set it on the stovetop, humming to himself as he poured a generous amount of milk into it and turned the heating element on. PJ watched carefully, thumb stuck in his mouth as he eyed Tony warily.

“Now, don’t touch, it's hot, and it could hurt you,” Tony said, making sure to keep an eye on PJ, “So, once the milk is hot, you add your chocolate. Some people use chocolate chips or bars, but I use a special cocoa powder from Switzerland. It’s the real deal and has to be sifted.”

“Really?” Steve snorted from his seat at the counter, idly playing with the ends of PJ’s hair, “I mean, I’m not surprised that it’s from Switzerland, I’m surprised you know how to sift something.”

“Ha-ha, hilarious,” He grunted back, rifling through the cabinets to find the cocoa, “I know how to do many things, Captain Rogers, and I’ll have you know that I am an _excellent_ chef.”

“You don’t cook for us, though.”

“I don’t usually have the time anymore. Most of my expertise comes from old Carbonell or Jarvis family recipes, and they take hours of prep. Sometimes I cook when you guys are off on a mission. Fewer people around, so the prep takes less time. Less volume to prep, that is.”

“And I just happen to be gone every time?”

Tony let out a victorious whoop when he came up with the sifter and the cocoa, grinning at PJ’s slightly startled look. He quickly sifted the cocoa into the hot milk, whisking it in until he was satisfied with the color.

“Well, I try to cook when you and Thor are both gone, if we’re being honest,” He sighed, grabbing a mug, a thermos, and a ladle, “You two eat enough for seven people each. It’s already difficult enough to make some of those dishes for four people, let alone fourteen, and that only feeds two people. If you want some, you need to eat beforehand, then have small portions of the good stuff.”

Tony gestured with the ladle before filling the thermos up and capping it, passing it to Steve with a knowing smile. Then, he filled his own mug, blowing on the top of it to try and cool it down.

“Once its cool, you can try some, okay kiddo?” he said, starting to clean up the mess.

PJ nodded, reaching back with a giggle when Steve tugged on his hair. He whirled around and tried to push at Steve’s face, squealing when the man playfully nipped at his fingers.

“Better be careful, or those are mine,” Steve laughed, biting the air playfully.

“Don’t listen to him, you just blink at him and he’ll fall over for you,” Tony said, scooping PJ up off the counter and settling him on his hip, “Why don’t we go say bye-bye to your Papa and aunts and uncles? Then we can go play for a while before lunch.”

“Bye-bye?” PJ asked, settling his head against Tony’s chest as the group made their way to the elevator.

“Yeah, kiddo. Papa’s taking some of the family out for a trip. They won’t be back for a bit, so we say bye-bye when they leave.”

“That’s so cute,” Steve said under his breath, uncapping his thermos to take a swallow, “Oh my god, this is delicious—”

“Told you,” Tony grunted, sipping at his mug.

The elevator doors opened to the common room, showing most of the Avengers already gathered with go bags piled by the entrance. They all turned when the elevator dinged, so PJ turned his head into Tony’s chest, clearly overwhelmed by the situation.

“I know, big guy. Just a few minutes, then we’ll go back up,” Tony subvocalized, nuzzling the boy’s temple, “Okay? If you’re uncomfortable before that, tell me, and we can go up then, but I do want to see them off first.”

“Is that a mocha?” Rhodey asked, nose crinkling as he sniffed the air, “I didn’t know you were a mocha person. I thought you only drank black.”

“Do you even smell coffee? It’s hot cocoa and its not for public consumption,” Tony snorted, turning his attention back to the room at large, “Alright, gang. Let’s split up. Fred here is going with you guys, so please make sure he gets home in one piece.”

“Don’t worry, Tony, we’ll bring your husband back,” Bucky sighed, looking up from sharpening his knife on his arm, “Really. It’ll be fine. It’s just a month or so.”

“Ha-ha, very funny,” he said, quickly panicking once he realized Pepper was staring at him from Rhodey’s other side, “I’ll be fine, it’s the kid I’m worried about. If anything goes belly up, you ping me and you retreat. I’m not there to be stupid, so don’t do anything stupid. Got it?”

A chorus of ‘yes, mom’ rang out in the room; satisfied, Tony nodded, turning to Steve with a half-smile.

“We good?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah, we’re good. I’m assuming you don’t want to fraternize in front of the larger children?” Steve murmured, reaching up to gently squeeze Tony’s bicep, “Don’t worry. Everything’ll be okay, we’ll get Zola, and I’ll be back in time to try your cooking.”

“I’ll have to practice then, just for you,” Tony said, licking his lips as he realized that his mouth was very, very dry, “Any requests?”

“Pick your favorite.”

Steve leaned in to press his lips to Tony’s forehead, then did the same with PJ, whispering comforts to the boy before heading out with the team. PJ waved to them as Tony watched them go, a little stunned, but somehow still standing on his two legs.

“Daddy?” PJ whimpered, wiggling a little in his arms.

“Oh, right. Sorry, peanut. Let’s get you back upstairs.”

He set the boy down and took his hand again, unsurprised that Pepper smoothly slid into the elevator with them. PJ grasped Tony’s slacks, risking a few glances at her before burying his face in Tony’s legs.

“Hey now, its just Auntie Pep, no need to be shy,” he soothed, petting PJ’s hair, “Why don’t we go get Mr. Elephant and some of your books? We can practice your words for Papa, so you can show off for him when he gets home. How does that sound?”

Pepper raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow at that, her other rising to match it when PJ nodded. The elevator opened back up onto his floor, so Tony patted PJ’s back, signaling to the boy to emerge. He let go of Tony’s slacks and ran off toward his room, only tripping once and catching himself before getting there.

“Be careful!” Tony called, offering his arm to lead Pepper out onto the floor before dropping his voice, “Sorry. He’s starting to become more comfortable, which means Steve’s nature is kicking in.”

“Steve’s nature?” She asked, kicking off her heels and collapsing onto the couch.

“Well, yeah. He’s at the pre-boarding school age. I was quiet and fairly reserved then. Steve was a monster until the army,” he said, sitting down carefully as to not spill the rest of his cocoa, “He always got into fights and ran around like a madman despite being a shrimp with enough disabilities to be the poster child for ADA pamphlets.”

Pepper shot him a withering look at that, but Tony shrugged, shaking his head.

“Bucky’s words. And it's not exactly false. Poor guy was hit hard. He would have been dead if he hadn’t gotten the serum,” he continued quietly, looking over when he heard tiny feet pattering down the hallway, “He talks about it sometimes. I think the whole idea of being alive for this long freaks him out. I mean, think about it. You grow up believing you’ll be dead before you hit twenty-five and then you’re suddenly both over a hundred and somehow also just over thirty. I can’t—”

“Daddy?”

PJ crawled up onto the couch between the two of them, his elephant tucked under his arm and books under the other. He deposited the books in Tony’s lap, looking up at him expectantly.

“Reading time? Alright, let me get adjusted here and we can read a little. Do you mind if Auntie Pep stays?”

PJ shook his head, waiting for Tony to put down his mug and get settled before crawling into his lap and snuggling up to his chest. He picked up the first book and handed it to Tony, then resettled the elephant and stuck his thumb in his mouth.

“ _Mouse Paint_ , huh? You like colors? I wish Steve had stayed for this, he would have loved to teach you colors and art,” Tony murmured, balancing the book in one hand so he could keep his other arm wrapped around the boy.

“Oh, Tony,” Pepper said sympathetically, shaking her head, “He’ll be back in a month. Then you two can do all the finger-painting you want. I bet he’ll be impressed that PJ knows his colors.”

PJ smacked his elephant against Tony’s chest with a whine, scrabbling his feet against Tony’s thigh.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m getting to it. Let’s look at the colors, huh?”

Pepper watched as Tony read the book to PJ, having him repeat the names of the colors and point out other things in the room that were the same color. Watching them interact made her choke up a little; she’d dreamed of kids herself, and at one point, with Tony. Yet, watching him dote on and coo over a boy that had his hair and Steve’s sharp nose made her realize that perhaps it had been the right decision to let that go.

“So, do you have a favorite color now?” Tony asked PJ at the end of the book, poking the boy’s nose.

“Blue,” PJ said decisively, jabbing his finger at the outer glass of the arc reactor, “Pretty.”

 “Yeah,” Tony choked out, automatically feeling tears well up in his eyes, “Yeah buddy, it kinda is—”

“Y’know, he really likes the reactor,” Pepper said softly, a smile curving her lips, “If he’s still having problems with the dark, why don’t you make him his own nightlight? Keep daddy close.”

“Hey, that’s not a bad idea. Maybe I could put it in a teddy for you,” Tony said, pressing his lips to PJ’s forehead as the boy went through his book again, “What do you think, kiddo, hm? Maybe that’d help you sleep at night.”

He combed his fingers through PJ’s hair as the boy silently looked at his book, mouthing the words again as he seemed to try and memorize them on his own. Tony flicked his gaze up to Pepper, offering her a sad smile. She shook her head in response, scooting over to kiss both his and the boy’s foreheads.

“He and you will be good for PJ,” she said quietly, cupping Tony’s cheek, “You can do this, Tony. I know you can. And…I’m happy for you. With him. You’re good together.”

“Thanks, Pep. Means a lot,” Tony murmured, biting his lip with a smile.

He watched her stand and leave, keeping his arms wrapped around PJ. He huffed softly when the elevator doors closed behind her, turning his attention back to the boy in his lap.

“Pep. Pretty,” PJ said softly, looking up at Tony, “Papa pretty?”

Tony laughed softly, albeit awkwardly as he hummed in the positive.

“Very pretty,” He said, brushing back the boy’s curls, “You too, kiddo. You got Papa’s pretty.”

“Papa blue?” PJ asked next, looking at the arc reactor, “Daddy blue.”

He poked Tony’s chest again, looking up at him with wide, expectant eyes. Tony was baffled, and it probably showed, so he shook his head and shrugged.

“Papa’s not blue. Sorry, honey. I’m one of a kind,” he tried, figuring he was asking if Steve had a hidden light.

_God, Steve, wish you were here to translate—_

PJ seemed to consider this, then nodded, tossing his book in favor of picking up the next. He handed it to Tony, snuggling back down into him and repositioning his elephant to look at the book.

“ _The Very Hungry Caterpillar_. Fitting for you, little man,” Tony teased, kissing PJ’s cheek, “Alright. In the light of the moon, a little egg lay on a leaf. See? That’s the moon, that’s the egg, and that’s the leaf. What’s the color of the leaf?”

“Green,” PJ answered, bouncing a little on Tony’s thigh.

“Good job, bud, that’s right!. Now, one Sunday morning, the warm sun came up…”


	12. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me for this journey. If you liked it, please leave kudos and a comment, and be sure to check out my other works.
> 
> You can find me at my tumblr [@avengersasssemble](www.avengersasssemble.tumblr.com).

“Are you ready?”

Natasha’s voice startled Steve out of his thoughts, making him turn toward her as he noised in confusion. Her face was unreadable, but her posture was relaxed and open, which meant she wanted him to talk.

“Ready for what?” He asked lightly, plopping down on his seat in the jet and taking off his helmet to shake the sand from his hair, “Going home?”

“Yes. Seeing Tony and PJ again after a month with little to no contact,” she said, peeling off her catsuit with a grunt of disgust, not caring that she was only in her skivvies, “Do you think you’re mentally ready for all that?”

Steve heard her step over to the on-deck shower, letting his face contort into worry once he heard the rattle of the shower curtain.

“I don’t know,” he said, peeling off his boots to dump the sand out, “Probably not.”

The last month had been rough; HYDRA was no fool when it came to protecting secrets, and this one had been particularly tough to crack. T’Challa’s contact had been a lifesaver when it came to finding the hidden entrance, but that had been their only stroke of luck the entire mission. That, and leaving with the same number of limbs that they had arrived with, unless he counted Bucky’s metal arm getting partially blown off again. Sure, he’d expected HYDRA to be vigilant, but he’d never seen so many people be willing to use themselves as weapons, some with live bombs strapped to their chests to prevent the team from getting close.

It was hell. There were few HYDRA survivors they managed to capture, and even those few somehow managed to get cyanide pills into their mouths. On the intel side, the mission was a catastrophic failure, and Steve knew Natasha was going to get flak from Fury for it. However, he knew what he’d seen, and with Tony’s help, they’d probably be able to construct a good enough build of the base for data retention.

He picked up a water bottle from under the bench he was on and uncapped it, swallowing it all in one go. Wiping the water from his lips, Steve sat forward and stared at the ground, replaying the last few hours of the mission in his mind. Thankfully, Natasha and Sam had managed to find a place where they could all lay low for a while without raising suspicion, considering most of them were clearly foreigners and didn’t speak the local languages. It had been a complete surprise when they burst through the door of the compound and demand they all suit up, barely explaining on the flight over that they’d found the entrance and that the heavy hitters would go first.

Which, of course, meant him, which is why he looked up at Vision when the android entered the jet and beckoned him over, motioning to his arm. Steve grit his teeth as Vision easily re-set it, breathing easier when he could flex his fingers without hurting.

“Perhaps some medication would help the pain, Captain?” Vis suggested, making himself phase as the others entered the jet to strap in for the ride home.

“It’ll be gone in a few hours. Don’t worry about me. We need to set Clint’s leg before it gets too bad,” Steve answered, rolling his shoulders back before making to stand.

Sam pushed him back down and shook his head, rolling his eyes.

“I got this. You sit and figure out how the hell you’re going to tell Tony that you got shot but that you pulled the bullets out of yourself with dirty gloves in the middle of the battle,” he said, moving over to help Clint into the jet with Bucky, laying the archer down on the opposite bench.

“If I don’t do it, the bullets get stuck in me and I have to fish ‘em out later,” Steve grumbled, absentmindedly skirting a hand over his abdomen as if to feel the ghostly remains of the bullets, “He knows that. And this isn’t the first mission I go home looking like swiss cheese—besides, I only took out the really bad ones.”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t recommend you do it, especially when you’re surrounded by live bombs,” Natasha added unhelpfully from the shower.

“Didn’t ask you, peanut gallery.”

She snorted in reply, making Steve grin and close his eyes, thunking his head back against the jet. The banter came easily as the adrenaline was draining from his body, but his smile quickly turned to a grimace at Clint’s loud cry at having his leg re-set and strapped in place to prevent it from moving.

“See if there’s an aerated cast in the kit,” he called, forcing his eyes open to prevent himself from falling asleep, “That’ll hold it until we can get to medical.”

The shower curtain rattled and Natasha returned to his side, wringing out her wet hair in a towel as she opened up her personal locker, pulling out a small brush to run through her hair. She looked down at him and jerked her chin toward the shower.

“Go and make sure you’re cleaned up,” she subvocalized, slipping one of her smallest knives into his hand, “There’s a kit back there for patching when you’re done.”

Steve accepted the knife and moved back into the shower area, closing the curtain before stripping off his nearly ruined suit and tossing it over top of the bar. He heard Sam grunt and swear, making him laugh as he turned the shower on.

“Sorry,” he called, tipping his head forward to let the hot water roll down his neck and back, “Just throw that in a corner somewhere. I’ll deal with it later.”

“Aye aye, Captain Crunch.”

Steve rolled his eyes as he pumped shampoo into his hand to lather up his sandy hair, grimacing at the feeling of the granules between his fingers. He rinsed and set up his conditioner, letting it sit as he twirled Natasha’s knife in his hand. Slowly, he worked up his legs, keeping his pained noises deep in his throat as he cut open the puckered wounds where he’d missed bullets. They clinked against the tiled floor as he flicked them out, sighing in relief when each of the wounds began to heal over properly. By the time he was done, he had a lovely pile of bullets on the floor, but when he rolled his shoulders back, he knew he had missed a few.

“Vis!” He called, only to yelp when the android phased into the shower.

“Yes, Captain?” he asked, uncaring about the close proximity to Steve’s nudity.

Steve took a breath and handed Vis the knife, then motioned to his back.

“Gotta get the bullets out, but I can’t reach,” he explained with a grunt.

He waited for the sting of the knife, but after a minute, Vis’ hand appeared in front of him with six bullets in it.

“You should have asked me earlier, Captain. I can simply phase the bullets out,” Vis said, dumping them into Steve’s palm and phasing out of the shower.

Steve stared at the bullets, blinking through the hot water before sighing loudly, thunking his head against the wall and dropping the bullets into the pile. He rinsed the conditioner out of his hair and quickly soaped himself up, glad to be rid of the grime of the battle. Once he was cleaned off and his bruising had been checked out, Steve shut the water off and grabbed one of the towels to wrap around his waist, scooping up the bullets to dump into the trash. He returned to the main area to find that they were already in the air, with everyone in various states of pain or disarray.

“Check in,” He started, “Sam, you first. Then around.”

“Fine. Eyes a little sore, wings trashed, but physically fine. Tony’s gonna be _pissed_.”

_Tell me about it._

“Need a new arm, but Tony’s got one for me back in the lab,” Bucky said next, eyes closed with his head tipped back against the wall, “Burnt real nice along my side; it's already healing. Got grazed on my head, but it checked out.”

“Dying,” Clint’s voice came from where his head was buried in Bucky’s stomach.

“He’s not dying, Captain. His leg is fractured in two places, but with Helen Cho’s help, he should be back on his feet in a week,” Vis supplied, phasing so he could sit on the seat that Clint’s bad leg was currently occupying, “I am at optimal functioning.”

As a group, they looked at Scott on the floor, who was asleep and snoring with his head in his arms.

“T’Challa, Shuri, and the Dora Milaje are headed back to Wakanda for repairs,” Natasha offered from the cockpit, her red ringlets bouncing when she turned her head, “Thor headed to Asgard to check in with Odin and Heimdall. He may be bringing back mead for us, considering we took a pretty bad hit.”

“You’re telling me,” Steve sighed, finally dressed in SHIELD-issued sweatpants and one of Tony’s biggest shirts, “I’m fine. Banged up, but I’ll live, which is the important part.”

“I won’t,” Clint moaned pitifully, at which Sam laughed and Bucky sympathetically patted his head.

“I radioed in for a med team to take him once we land,” Natasha said as Steve approached the cockpit, sitting down heavily in the co-pilot’s seat, “Tony said he’ll wait for us inside. Apparently, PJ’s having a really good day, and he doesn’t want the kid to freak out by seeing us all—”

“Yeah, smart,” Steve interrupted with a sigh, laughing when he felt Nat’s gaze on him, “Sorry. Tired.”

“Don’t worry Cap, we’ll get you back to your boyfriend and lovechild soon enough.”

He groaned and she smirked over at him, flicking switches and pressing buttons to set the jet to autopilot. She affectionately ruffled his hair before moving back, presumably to check on Clint. Steve picked up his set of headphones and turned them on, fitting them to his head as he flicked through the receiver channels until he could hear Tony’s shop’s music in the background.

“Breaker, breaker, this is Eagle One requesting contact, do you copy?” He said, having to bite back his giggles at hearing low swearing and a few crashes before Tony picked up.

“Oh god, its so good to hear your voice,” He finally panted, “How are you? Are you hurt? Nat said you got banged up bad, but not the worst—”

“I’m fine, Tony,” Steve said gently, smiling down at his shirt as he tugged on it, “Riddled with holes, but they’re healing. Should be okay by tomorrow, I promise. Clint and Buck took the worst of the damage, as far as I know. How are you holding up? How’s the kid?”

“Oh, so he tells me he’s swiss cheese then changes the subject—I’m fine, it’s been relatively boring around here, save for the mutant son we— _hey! Don’t you do that again, young man, I will sell you off to Brown, and it's not even one of the good Ivy Leagues!_ —Sorry, Dummy just tried to help PJ escape out of his playpen. I had to build that, y’know, the kid can tear up kid toys like nothing I’ve ever seen. I was totally right about the super strength, so he’s definitely your kid—”

Steve tried to bite back his smile as Tony babbled on, shifting himself down in his chair to make himself more comfortable. He couldn’t help the swell of affection that filled every nook and cranny in his chest, wanting so desperately to be home already just so he could hold them.

“—Steve? Are you even listening? God, you better not have died while I was talking, that would be so incredibly rude—"

“Nope, not dead, still here,” he interrupted with a laugh, “Just thinking about how much I want to be home already.”

“I know, babycakes. Sand just isn’t your thing, huh? Me either. I can’t wait for you to see PJ, we’ve made such good pro— _Dummy! What did I just say? Go to your charging station, right now. No, don’t look at me like that. I told you not to do that and you did it, so go!_ —Sorry. Again. I think PJ knows I’m talking to you and wants in, but I’m trying to keep him from getting dirtier than he already is.”

“Tony, it’s okay,” Steve said, trying not to giggle too hard, “If its safe, bring him over. I missed him.”

“Okay, okay. Hold on.”

The line went quiet for a moment, so Steve imagined Tony walking over to the other side of the shop to first scold Dummy, then to pick up PJ and rest him on his hip, lightly scolding him for turning his other child against him. After a minute, Steve heard rustling on the other side, but the line was still quiet otherwise.

“…Tony?” Steve called, slightly worried.

“…Papa?”

He paused, eyes widening slightly at hearing PJ’s timid voice.

“Hi, peanut, yeah, it’s Papa,” he said, stumbling over his words, “I’m on my way home, kiddo. I’ll be back later tonight to be able to tuck you into bed.”

“Home?” PJ’s voice repeated, “Home blue?”

“He doesn’t know what that means, peaches,” Tony’s distant voice said, “You have to explain it to him.”

“Daddy blue,” PJ said firmly, “Daddy home.”

“He’s trying to ask you if you’re coming home to me,” Tony said, “I’ve been assigned a color, due to it being emanating from my chest.”

Steve tried to answer but was too busy hurriedly wiping the budding tears from his eyes. He swallowed the happy sob in his throat, hearing Tony call his name again.

“I’m here,” he croaked, “Sorry, I just—yeah, honey. I’m coming home to you and Daddy. I promise. You keep him in line for me, okay? Make sure he eats just as many vegetables as he’s been making you eat.”

“Oh, nuh uh, nope, no turning our kids against me,” Tony griped in the background over PJ’s excited shriek.

“Kids?”

“I’m including Dummy.”

“Does this mean he’s the older brother?”

“Well, he has the mentality of a toddler, but he’s physically older, so sure. He’s the older brother.”

“We’ll need to get matching family pajamas, then.”

“Oh, way ahead of you, baby. Already have the matching Christmas stockings ordered.”

Steve laughed and curled up in his chair as best as he could, cradling his headset between his hands.

“I miss you,” he said softly, smiling sadly at his knees, “Both of you. I can’t wait to be home.”

“We miss you too, sweetheart,” Tony’s voice came through clearly, meaning he’d taken back controls of the radio, “Especially squirt. He misses someone who’ll read his books in cool voices. I’ve basically bored him into sleeping for the past month. Oh well. I thought the kid might like Asimov.”

“God, I love you,” Steve sighed happily, “You’re so good to him, Tony. I know you’ve done such a good job with him. I can’t wait to get home so we can all pile in the bed.”

There was silence for a moment,  then Tony cleared his throat and said in a slightly watery voice, “Say that again?”

“I can’t wait to get home?”

“Before that.”

“Uh…you’ve done a good job with him?”

“No, beginning of the statement.”

“…I love you?”

Steve heard Tony choke on the other side of the line and rolled his eyes fondly, wishing Tony could see him shake his head.

“Yes, I love you, you dweeb,” he repeated, “I don’t think I would have willingly tried to give a toddler a sponge bath if I didn’t. You don’t—don’t feel pressured to say it back, alright? I’ve known that I’ve loved you since the moment we met, if you need time, then it—”

“Love you! Love you!” PJ yelled in the background, making Steve burst into laughter.

“Awe, yes, I love you too, peanut,” He giggled, knowing Tony was probably horrified, “Now, can you love Daddy for me for just a bit longer ‘til I get home? Give him lots of kisses and hugs for me.”

“Kissy!” PJ’s voice shrieked, making Tony yelp.

“Agh! No! No, no, keep your little grubby hands to yourself, you need a bath before you go near anyone—look what you’ve done, Steve,” Tony griped, “Ugh, fine. I love you too, you big lug. Tell Nat to hurry up the jet so I can kiss you sooner.”

“Will do, Mr. Stark. Over and out?” Steve asked.

“Over and out,” Tony agreed.

He cut the connection and sat up, hanging the headset back up and propping his feet on the dash before leaning back in his chair with his arms behind his head. Listening to the calm chatter and laughter behind him, Steve closed his eyes, a warm smile coming to his lips as he let sleep take him for the rest of the ride home.


End file.
